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THE LAND OF POESY 



POEMS THAT EVERY 
CHILD SHOULD KNOW 

A SELECTION OF THE BEST POEMS 
OF ALL TIMES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 

EDITED BY MARY E. BURT 




NEW YORK 

Doubleday, Page & Company 

1904 







LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 
APR 19 1904 

Copyrlffht Entry 

CLASS C%- XXc. No. 

COPY B 



Copyright, 1904, by 

Doubleday, Page & Company 

Published, April, 1904 



^ 



^'>^ 



■A 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS TO PUBLISHERS 
AND AUTHORS 

It sometimes happens that there are people who 
do not know that authors are protected by copy- 
right laws. A publisher once cited to me an 
instance of a teacher who innocently put forth a 
little volume of poems that she loved and admired, 
without asking permission of any one. Her 
annoyance was boundless when she found that 
she had no right to the poems. 

Special permission has been obtained for each 
copyrighted poem in this volume, and the right 
to publish has been purchased of the author or 
publisher, except in those cases where the author 
or the publisher has, for reasons of courtesy and 
friendship, given the permission. 

In addition to the business arrangements which 

have been made, we wish to extend our thanks 

and acknowledgments to those firms which have 

so kindly allowed us to use their material. 

To Houghton, Mifflin & Company, of Boston, 

we are indebted for the use of the following 

poems: From the copyrighted works of 

Longfellow — "The Arrow and the Song," "A 

Fragment of Hiawatha's Childhood," "The 

Skeleton in Armour," "The Wreck of the 

Hesperus,'' "The Ship of State," "The Psalm 

V 



vi Acknowledgments 

of Life," "The Village Blacksmith." From 
Whittier— ' ' Barbara Frietchie" and ' ' The 
Three Bells of Glasgow." From Emerson — 
"The Problem." From Burroughs— " My 
Own Shall Come to Me." From Lowell — 
"The Finding of the Lyre," "The Shepherd of 
King Admetus," and a fragment of "The 
Vision of Sir Launf al. ' ' From Holmes — "The 
Chambered Nautilus" and "Old Ironsides." 
From James T. Fields — "The Captain's 
Daughter." From Bayard Taylor— "The 
Song in Camp." From Celia Thaxter — "The 
Sandpiper. ' ' From J. T. Trowbridge — ' ' Farm- 
Yard Song." From Edith M. Thomas— 
"The God of Music" and Hermes' 
"Moly." 

To Charles Scribner's Sons we are indebted 
for the use of the following poems : From the 
copyrighted works of Eugene Field — 
"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," "Krinken," 
and ' ' The Duel. ' ' From Robert Louis Steven- 
son — "My Shadow." From James Whit- 
comb Riley's poems — "Little Orphant 
Annie." From the poems of Sidney Lanier 
— "Barnacles" and "The Tournament." 
From "The Poems of Patriotism" — "Sheri- 
dan's Ride." 

We are further indebted to Charles Scribner's 
Sons, as well as to Mr. George W. Cable, 
for "The New Arrival," taken from "The 
Cable Story Book," and to Mrs. Katherine 
Miller and Scribner's Magazine for "Steven- 
son's Birthday." 



Acknowledgments vii 

To J. B, LiPPiNCOTT Company we are indebted 
for the use of "Sheridan's Ride," from the 
complete works of T. Buchanan Read. 

To Harper & Brothers for the use of ** Driving 
Home the Cows," by Kate Putnam Osgood. 

To Little, Brown & Company, of Boston, "How 
the Leaves Came Down," by Susan CooHdge. 

To the Whitaker & Ray Company, of San 
Francisco, "Columbus," by Joaquin Miller, 
from his complete works published and copy- 
righted by that company. 

To D. Appleton & Company for "The Planting 
of the Apple-Tree" and "Robert of Lincoln," 
from the complete works of William Cullen 
Bryant; also for "Marco Bozzaris," from the 
works of Fitz-Greene Halleck. 

To the Macmillan Company for "The Forsaken 
Merman," by Matthew Arnold, from the com- 
plete volume of his poems published by that 
company. 

To the Howard University Print, Washington, 
D. C, for Jeremiah Rankin's little poem, 
"The Babie," from "Ingleside Rhaims." 

To the heirs of Mary Emily Bradley for "A 
Chrysalis." 

To Henry Holcomb Bennett for "The Flag Goes 
By." 

To Robert W. Chambers for "The Recruit." 

To McClure, Phillips & Company for Edwin 
Markham's "The Man With the Hoe." 



PREFACE 

Is THIS another collection of stupid poems that 
children cannot use? Will they look hopelessly 
through this volume for poems that suit them? 
Will they say despairingly, "This is too long, " and 
"That is too hard," and "I don't like that because 
it is not interesting"? 

Are there three or four pleasing poems and are 
all the rest put in to fill up the book? Nay, 
verily ! The poems in this collection are those 
that children love. With the. exception of seven, 
they are short enough for children to commit to 
memory without wearying themselves or losing 
interest in the poem. If one boy learns "The 
Overland Mail," or "The Recruit," or "Wynken, 
Blynken, and Nod," or "The Song in Camp," 
or "Old Ironsides," or "I Have a Little Shadow," 
or "The Tournament," or "The Duel," nine boys 
out of ten will be eager to follow him. I know, 
because I have tried it a dozen times. Every 
boy loves "Paul Revere's Ride" (alas ! I have not 
been able to include it) , and is ambitious to learn 
it, but only boys having a quick memory will 
persevere to the end. Shall the slower boy be 
deprived of the pleasure of reading the whole 
poem and getting its inspiring sentiment and 
learning as many stanzas as his mind will take? 
No, indeed. Half of such a poem is better than 

ix 



X Preface 

none. Let the slow boy learn and recite as many- 
stanzas as he can and the boy of quick memory 
follow him up with the rest. It does not help the 
slow boy's memory to keep it down entirely or 
deprive it of its smaller activity because he can- 
not learn the whole. Some people will invariably 
give the slow child a very short poem. It is often 
better to divide a long poem among the children, 
letting each child learn a part. The sustained 
interest of a long poem is worth while. "The 
Merman," *'The Battle of Ivry," ''Horatius at the 
Bridge," "Krinken," "The Skeleton in Armour," 
"The Raven" and "Herve Riel" may all profit- 
ably be learned that way. Nevertheless, the child 
enjoys most the poem that is just long enough, and 
there is much to be said in favour of the selection 
that is adapted, in length, to the average mind; 
for the child hesitates in the presence of quantity 
rather than in the presence of subtle thought. I 
make claim for this collection that it is made up 
of poems that the majority of children will learn 
of their own free will. There are people who 
believe that in the matter of learning poetry there 
is no ''ought,'' but this is a false belief. There is 
a duty, even there; for every American citizen 
ought to know the great national songs that keep 
alive the spirit of patriotism. Children should 
build for their future — and get, while they are 
children, what only the fresh imagination of the 
child can assimilate. 

They should store up an untold wealth of heroic 
sentiment; they should acquire the habit of 
carrying a literary quality in their conversation; 



Preface xi 

they shotild carry a heart full of the fresh and 
delightful associations and memories connected 
with poetry hours to brighten mature years. 
They shoiild develop their memories while they 
have memories to develop. 

Will the boy who took every poetry hour for a 
whole school year to learn "Henry of Navarre" 
ever regret it, or will the children who listened to 
it ? No. It was fresh every week and they brought 
fresh interest in listening. The boy will always 
love it because he used to love it. There were 
boys who scrambled for the right to recite "The 
Tournament," "The Charge of the Light Brigade," 
"The Star-Spangled Banner," and so on. The 
boy who was first to reach the front had the 
privilege. The triumph of getting the chance to 
recite added to the zest of it. Will they ever 
forget it? 

I know Lowell's "The Finding of the Lyre." 
Attention, Sir Knights ! See who can learn it 
first as I say it to you. But I find that I have 
forgotten a line of it, so you may open your books 
and teach it to me. Now, I can recite every word 
of it. How much of it can you repeat from 
memory? One boy can say it all. Nearly every 
child has learned the most of it. Now, it will be 
easy for you to learn it alone. And Memory, the 
Goddess Beautiful, will henceforth go with you 
to recall this happy hour. 

Mary E. Burt. 

The John A. Browning School, 1Q04. 



CONTENTS 

PART I 

1. The Arrow and the Song . 

Henry W. Longfellow 

2. TheBabie 

Jeremiah Eames Rankin 

3. Let Dogs DeHght to Bark and Bite 

Isaac Watts 

4. Little Things .... 

Ebenezer Cobham Brewer 

5. He Prayeth Best 

Samuel T. Coleridge 

6. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star 

Anonymous Mp^^^<yi 

7. Pippa .... 

Robert Browning 

8. The Days of the Month 

An Old Song 

9. True Royalty 

RuDYARD Kipling 

10. Playing Robinson Crusoe 

RuDYARD Kipling 

11. My Shadow 

Robert Louis Stevenson 

12. Little White Lily 

George Macdonald 




3 
4 
4 
5 
5 
6 

7 
7 
8 

9 
10 



XllX 



XIV 



Contents 



13. How the Leaves Came Down 

Susan Coolidge 

14. Willie Winkie 

William Miller 

15. The Owl and the Pussy-Cat 

Edward Lear 

16. Wynken, Blynken, and Nod 

Eugene Field 

17. The Duel .... 

Eugene Field 

18. The Boy Who Never Told a Lie 

Anonymous 

19. Love Between Brothers and Sisters 

Isaac Watts 

20. The Bluebell of Scotland . 

Anonymous 

21. If I Had But Two Little Wings 

Samuel T. Coleridge 

22. A Farewell 

Charles Kingsley 

23. Casablanca 

Felicia Hemans 

24. The Captain's Daughter 

James T. Fields 

25. The Village Blacksmith 

Henry W. Longfellow 

26. Sweet and Low 

Alfred Tennyson 
y 27. The Violet 

Jane Taylor 
28. The Rainbow (a fragment) 

William Wordsworth 



Contents 

A Visit Prom St. Nicholas . 

Clement Clarke Moore 

30. The Star-Spangled Banner . 

Francis Scott Key 

31. Father William .... 

Lewis Carroll 

32. The Nightingale and the Glow-worm 

William Cowper 



29 



XV 

29 

31 

33 
34 



PART II 



?,?>■ 


The Frost 

Hannah Flagg Gould 


39 


34. 


The Owl 

Alfred Tennyson 


40 


35. 


Little Billee 

William Makepeace Thackeray 


41 


36. 


The Butterfly and the Bee 

William Lisle Bowles 


42 


37- 


An Incident of the French Camp 
Robert Browning 


43 


38. 


Robert of Lincoln .... 
William Cullen Bryant 


44 


39- 


Old Grimes .... 
Albert Gorton Greene 


47 


40. 


Song of Life 

Charles Mackay 


48 


41. 


Fairy Song 

John Keats 


50 


42. 


A Boy's Song 

James Hogg 


SO 


43- 


Buttercups and Daisies 

Mary Howitt 


SI 



XVI 



Contents 



44- 


The Rainbow . . . . - . 




Thomas Campbell 


45- 


Old Ironsides . . . . . 




Oliver Wendell Holmes 


46. 


Little Orphant Annie 




James Whitcomb Riley 


47- 


Captain ! My Captain ! 




Walt Whitman 


48. 


Ingratitude 




William Shakespeare 


49. 


The Ivy Green 




Charles Dickens 


50- 


The Noble Nature .... 




Ben Jonson 


51- 


The Flying Squirrel .... 




Mary E. Burt 


52. 


Warren's Address .... 




John Pierpont 


53- 


The Song in Camp .... 




Bayard Taylor 


54- 


The Bugle Song .... 




Alfred Tennyson 


55- 


The Three Bells of Glasgow 




John G. Whittier 


56. 


Sheridan's Ride .... 




Thomas Buchanan Read 


57. 


The Sandpiper 




Celia Thaxter 


58. 


Lady Clare 




Alfred Tennyson 


59- 


The Lord of Burleigh 




Alfred Tennyson 



Contents xvii 

60. Hiawatha's Childhood ... 79 

Henry W. Longfellow 

61. I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud . . 82 

William Wordsworth 

62. John Barleycorn .... 83 

Robert Burns 

63. A Life on the Ocean Wave . . 85 

Epes Sargent 

64. The Recruit 86 

Robert William Chambers 

65. Abou Ben Adhem . . . . 89 

Leigh Hunt 

'66. Farm- Yard Song .... 90 

J. T. Trowbridge 

67. To a Mouse . . . . .92 

Robert Burns 

68. To a Mountain Daisy .... 94 

Robert Burns 

69. Barbara Frietchie .... 69 

John G. Whittier 

PART III 



70. 


Lochinvar 

Sir Walter Scott 


. 103 


71. 


Lord Ullin's Daughter 

Thomas Campbell 


• 105 


72. 


The Charge of the Light Brigade 
Alfred Tennyson 


. 107 


73- 


The Tournament 

Sidney Lanier 


. no 


74- 


The Wind and the Moon . 
George Macdonald 


. Ill 



xviii Contents 

75. Jesus the Carpenter 

Catherine C. Liddell 

76. Letty's Globe .... 

Charles Tennyson Turner 

77. A Dream ..... 

William Blake 

78. Heaven Is Not Reached at a Single 

Bound ..... 
J. G. Holland 

79. The Battle of Blenheim 

Robert Southey 

80. Fidelity 

William Wordsworth 

81. The Chambered Nautilus . 

Oliver Wendell Holmes 

82. Crossing the Bar 

Alfred Tennyson 
2>T,. The Overland-Mail . 

RuDYARD Kipling 

84. Gathering Song of Donald Dhu 

Sir Walter Scott 

85. Marco Bozzaris . 

Fitz-Greene Halleck 
^6. The Death of Napoleon 

Isaac McClellan 

87. How Sleep the Brave 

William Collins 

88. The Flag Goes By . 

Henry Holcomb Bennett 

89. Hohenlinden 

Thomas Campbell 



Contents xix 

90. My Old Kentucky Home . . .136 

Stephen Collins Foster 

91. Old Folks at Home .... 137 

Stephen Collins Foster 

92. The Wreck of the Hesperus . .138 

Henry W. Longfellow 

93. Bannockburn 142 

Robert Burns 





PART IV 




94- 


The Inchcape Rock . 

Robert Southey 


145 


95- 


The Finding of the Lyre . 

James Russell Lowell 


148 


96. 


A Chrysalis .... 
Mary Emily Bradley 


149 


97- 


For a' That .... 
Robert Burns 


151 


98. 


The New Arrival 

George W. Cable 


. 152 


99. 


The Brook .... 
Alfred Tennyson 


. 153 


100. 


The Ballad of the Clampherdown 
RuDYARD Kipling 


. 154 


lOI. 


The Destruction of Sennacherib 
Lord Byron 


. 158 


102. 


I Remember, I Remember 
Thomas Hood 


. 159 


103- 


Driving Home the Cows 

Kate Putnam Osgood 


. 160 



XX 

1 04. Krinken 



Contents 



162 
Eugene Field 

105. Stevenson's Birthday . . . 164 

Katherine Miller 

106. A Modest Wit 165 

Selleck Osborne 

107. The Legend of Bishop Hatto . .166 

Robert Southey 

108. Columbus . . . . . .169 

Joaquin Miller 

109. The Shepherd of King Admetus . 171 

James Russell Lowell 
no. How They Brought the Good News 

from Ghent to Aix . . .173 
Robert Browning 

111. The Burial of Sir John Moore at 

Corunna . . . . . .176 

C. Wolfe 

112. The Eve of Waterloo . . .177 

Lord Byron 

113. Ivry . . . . . . .179 

Thomas B. Macaulay 

114. The Glove and the Lions . . .184 

Leigh Hunt 

115. The Well of St. Keyne . . .186 

Robert Southey 

116. The Nautilus and the Ammonite . 188 

Anonymous 

117. The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk . 190 

William Cowper 

118. The Homes of England . . .192 

Felicia Hemans 



Contents xxi 

119. Horatius at the Bridge . . . 193 
Thomas B. Macaulay 

120. The Planting of the Apple-Tree . 211 
William Cullen Bryant 

PART V 

121. June . . . . . . .217 

James Russell Lowell 

122. A Psalm of Life . . . .218 
Henry W. Longfellow 

123. Barnacles ...... 219 

Sidney Lanier 

124. A Happy Life . . . . .220 
Sir Henry Wotton 

125. Home, Sweet Home .... 220 
John Howard Payne 

126. From Casa Guidi Windows . . 222 
Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

127. Woodman, Spare That Tree! . .222 
George Pope Morris 

128. Abide With Me 223 

Henry Francis Lyte 

J 129. Lead, Kindly Light . . . .224 
John Henry Newman 

130. The Last Rose of Summer . .225 
Thomas Moore 

131. Annie Laurie ..... 226 
William Douglas 

132. The Ship of State . . . .227 
Henry W. Longfellow 

133. America 228 

Samuel Francis Smith 



xxii Contents 

134. The Landing of the Pilgrims 

Felicia Hemans 

135. The Lotos-Eaters 

Alfred Tennyson 

136. Moly 

Edith M. Thomas 

137. Cupid Drowned . 

Leigh Hunt 

138. Cupid Stung 

Thomas Moore 

139. Cupid and My Campasbe . 

John Lyly 

140. A Ballad for a Boy . 

Anonymous 

141. The Skeleton in Armour . 

Henry W. Longfellow 

142. The Revenge 

Alfred Tennyson 

143. Sir Galahad 

Alfred Tennyson 

144. A Name in the Sand 

Hannah Flagg Gould 



229 

231 
233 
234 
234 

235 
236 
240 
246 

253 
256 



PART VI 

145. The Voice of Spring . 

Felicia Hemans 

146. The Forsaken Merman 

Matthew Arnold 

147. The Banks o' Doon 

Robert Burns 

148. The Light of Other Days . 

Thomas Moore 



259 
260 
265 
266 



Contents xxiii 

149. My Own Shall Come to Me . .267 

John Burroughs 

150. Ode to a Skylark .... 268 

Percy Bysshe Shelley 

151. The Sands of Dee . . . .271 

Charles Kingsley 

152. A Wish 272 

Samuel Rogers 

153. Lucy ....... 272 

William Wordsworth 

154. Solitude 273 

Alexander Pope 

155. John Anderson 274 

Robert Burns 

156. The God of Music .... 275 

Edith M. Thomas 

157. A Musical Instrument . . .275 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

158. The Brides of Enderby . . .277 

Jean Ingelow 

159. The Lye ...... 283 

Sir Walter Raleigh 

160. L'Envoi ...... 285 

Rudyard Kipling 

161. Contentment . . . . .286 

Edward Dyer 

162. The Harp That Once Through Tara's 

Halls 287 

Thomas Moore 

163. The Old Oaken Bucket . . .288 

Samuel Woodworth 

164. The Raven 289 

Edgar Allan Poe 



XXIV 



Contents 



165. 


Arnold von Winkleried 

James Montgomery 


296 


166. 


Life, I Know Not What Thou Art 
A. L. Barbauld 


299 


y 167. 


Mercy 

William Shakespeare 


300 


168. 


Polonius' Advice .... 
William Shakespeare 


301 


169. 


A Fragment from Brutus's Speech 
William Shakespeare 


301 


170. 


The Skylark 

Thomas Hogg 


302 


171. 


The Choir Invisible .... 
George Eliot 


3^3 


172. 


The World Is Too Much With Us 
William Wordsworth 


304 


173- 


On His Blindness .... 
John Milton 


304 


174. 


She Was a Phantom of Delight 
William Wordsworth 


305 


175- 


Elegy Written in a Coimtry Church- 






yard 


306 




Thomas Gray 




176. 


Rabbi Ben Ezra .... 
Robert Browning 


312 


177. 


Prospice 

Robert Browning 


320 


178 


Recessional 

RuDYARD Kipling 


321 


179 


Ozymandias of Egypt 

Percy Bysshe Shelley 


322 



Contents xxv 

1 80. Mortality 323 

William Knox 

181. On First Looking Into Chapman's 

"Homer" 326 

John Keats 

182. Herv^ Riel 326 

Robert Browning 

183. The Problem 333 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

184. To America 335 

Alfred Austin 

185. The English Flag .... 337 

RuDYARD Kipling 

186. The Man With the Hoe . . .342 

Edwin Markham 

187. Song of Myself 344 

Walt Whitman 
Index 351 



PART I, 





Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Arrow and the Song. 

"The Arrow and the Song," by Longfellow (1807-82), is placed 
first in this volume out of respect to a little girl of six years who used 
to love to recite it to me. She knew many poems, but this was her 
favourite. 

I SHOT an arrow into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where; 
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight 
Could not follow it in its flight. 

I breathed a song into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where; 
For who has sight so keen and strong 
That it can follow the flight of song ? 

Long, long afterward, in an oak 
I found the arrow, still unbroke; 
And the song, from beginning to end, 
I found again in the heart of a friend. 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



4 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Babie. 

I found "The Babie" in Stedman's "Anthology." It is placed in this 
volume by permission of the poet, Jeremiah Eames Rankin, of Cleveland 
(1828-), because it capttired the heart of a ten-year-old boy whose fancy 
was greatly moved by the two beautiful lines: 

"Her face is like an angel's face, 
I'm glad she has no wings." 

Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes, 

Nae stockin' on her feet ; 
Her supple ankles white as snaw, 

Or early blossoms sweet. 

Her simple dress o' sprinkled pink, 

Her double, dimplit chin. 
Her puckered lips, and baumy mou', 

With na ane tooth within. 



Her een sae like her mither's een, 

Twa gentle, liquid things; 
Her face is like an angel's face: 

We're glad she has nae wings. 

Jeremiah Eames Rankin. 



Let Dogs Delight to Bark and Bite. 

"Let Dogs Delight to Bark and Bite," by Isaac Watts (1674-1748), 
and "Little Drops of Water," by Ebenezer Cobham Brewer (1810-97), 
are poems that the world cannot outgrow. Once in the mind, they 
fasten. They were not bom to die. 

Let dogs delight to bark and bite, 
For God hath made them so; 

Let bears and lions growl and fight, 
For 'tis their nature to. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 

But, children, you should never let 

Such angry passions rise; 
Your little hands were never made 

To tear each other's eyes. 

Isaac Watts. 

Little Things. 

Little drops of water, 

Little grains of sand, 
Make the mighty ocean 

And the pleasant land. 

Thus the little minutes. 
Humble though they be. 

Make the mighty ages 
Of eternity. 

Ebenezer Cobham Brewer. 



He Prayeth Best. 

These two stanzas, the very heart of that great poem, "The Ancient 
Mariner," by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), sum up the lesson 
of this masterpiece — "Insensibility is a crime." 

Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell 
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest ! 

He prayeth well who loveth well 
Both man and bird and beast. 

He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things, both great and small: 

For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all. 

Samuel T. Coleridge. 



6 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. 

Twinkle, twinkle, little star! 
How I wonder what you are, 
Up above the world so high, 
Like a diamond in the sky. 

When the glorious sun is set, 
When the grass with dew is wet. 
Then you show your little light, 
Twinkle, twinkle all the night. 

In the dark-blue sky you keep, 
And often through my curtains peep, 
For you never shut your eye, 
Till the sun is in the sky. 

As your bright and tin}'' spark 
Gtiides the traveller in the dark, 
Though I know not what you are, 
Twinkle, twinkle, little star! 



Pippa. 

"Spring's at the Mom," from "Pippa Passes," by Robert Browning 
(1812-89), has become a very popular stanza with little folks. "All's 
right with the worid" is a cheerful motto for the nursery and school- 
room. 

The year's at the spring. 
The day's at the mom; 
Morning's at seven; 
The hillside's dew pearled; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 7 

The lark's on the wing; 
The snail's on the thorn; 
God's in His heaven — 
All's right with the world ! 

Robert Browning. 



The Days of the Month. 

"The Days of the Month" is a useful bit of doggerel that we need all 
through life. It is anonymous. 

Thirty days hath September, 
April, June, and November; 
February has twenty-eight alone. 
All the rest have thirty-one, 
Excepting leap-year — that's the time 
When February's days are twenty-nine. 

Old Song. 



True Royalty. 

"True Royalty" and "Playing Robinson Crusoe" are pleasing 
stanzas from "The Just So Stories" of Rudyard Kipling (1865-). 

There was never a Queen like Balkis, 
From here to the wide world's end; 

But Balkis talked to a butterfly 
As you would talk to a friend. 

There was never a King like Solomon, 

Not since the world began; 
But Solomon talked to a butterfly 

As a man wotdd talk to a man. 



8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

She was Queen of Sabaea — 
And he was Asia's Lord — 
But they both of 'em talked to butterflies 
When they took their walks abroad. 

RuDYARD Kipling. 
(In ''The Just So Stories.") 



Playing Robinson Crusoe. 

Pussy can sit by the fire and sing, 

Pussy can climb a tree, 
Or play with a silly old cork and string 

To 'muse herself, not me. 
But I like Binkie, my dog, because 

He knows how to behave ; 
So, Binkie's the same as the First Friend was, 

And I am the Man in the Cave. 

Pussy will play Man-Friday till 

It's time to wet her paw 
And make her walk on the window-sill 

(For the footprint Crusoe saw) ; 
Then she fiuffles her tail and mews. 

And scratches and won't attend. 
But Binkie will play whatever I choose, 

And he is my true First Friend. 

Pussy will rub my knees with her head. 

Pretending she loves me hard; 
But the very minute I go to my bed 

Pussy runs out in the yard, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 9 

And there she stays till the morning-light ; 

So I know it is only pretend; 
But Binkie, he snores at my feet all night, 

And he is my Firstest Friend ! 

RuDYARD Kipling. 

(In "The Just So Stories.") 



My Shadow. 

"My Shadow," by Robert Louis Stevenson" (1850-94), is one of 
the most popular short poems extant. I have taught it to a great 
many very young boys, and not one has ever tried to evade learning it. 
Older pupils like it equally well. 

I HAVE a little shadow that goes in and out with 

me, 
And what can be the use of him is more than I 

can see. 
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the 

head ; 
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into 

my bed. 

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes 
to grow — 

Not at all like proper children, which is always 
very slow; 

For he sometimes shoots up taller hke an india- 
rubber ball, 

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none 
of him at all. 



lo Poems That Every Child Should Know 

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to 

play, 
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of 

way. 
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward, you 

can see; 
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow 

sticks to me ! 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, 

I rose and found the shining dew on every butter- 
cup; 

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy- 
head. 

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast 
asleep in bed. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 



Little White Lily. 

This poem (George Macdonald, 182 8-) finds a place in this volume 
because, as a child, I loved it. It completely filled my heart, and has 
made every member of the lily family dear to me. George Macdonald's 
charming book, "At the Back of the North Wind/' also was my 
wonder and delight. 

Little White Lily 
Sat by a stone, 
Drooping and waiting 
Till the sun shone. 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know ii 

Little White Lily 
Sunshine has fed; 
Little White Lily 
Is lifting her head. 

Little White Lily 
Said: "It is good 
Little White Lily's 
Clothing and food." 
Little White Lily 
Dressed like a bride ! 
Shining with whiteness, 
And crowned beside ! 

Little White Lily 
Drooping with pain, 
Waiting and waiting 
For the wet rain. 
Little White Lily 
Holdeth her cup; 
Rain is fast falling 
And filling it up. 

Little White Lily 
Said: "Good again, 
When I am thirsty 
To have the nice rain. 
Now I am stronger, 
Now I am cool; 
Heat cannot burn me, 
My veins are so full." 



12 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Little White Lily 
Smells very sweet; 
On her head sunshine, 
Rain at her feet. 
Thanks to the sunshine, 
Thanks to the rain, 
Little White Lily 
Is happy again. 

George Macdonald. 



How the Leaves Came Down. 

"How the Leaves Came Down," by Susan Coolidge (1845-), appeals 
to children because it helps to reconcile them to going to bed. "I go to 
bed by day" is one of the crosses of childhood. 

"I'll tell you how the leaves came down," 
The great Tree to his children said: 

"You're getting sleepy. Yellow and Brown, 
Yes, very sleepy, little Red. 
It is quite time to go to bed." 

"Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf, 

"Let us a little longer stay; 
Dear Father Tree, behold our grief ! 

'Tis such a very pleasant day. 

We do not want to go away." 



So, for just one more merry day 

To the great Tree the leaflets clung, 
Frollicked and danced, and had their way, | Ti 

Upon the autumn breezes swung, "ji 

Whispering all their sports among — 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 13 

** Perhaps the great Tree will forget, 

And let us stay until the spring, 
If we all beg, and coax, and fret." 

But the great Tree did no such thing; 

He smiled to hear their whispering. 

"Come, children, all to bed," he cried; 

And ere the leaves could urge their prayer, 

He shook his head, and far and wide, 
Fluttering and rustling everywhere, 
Down sped the leaflets through the air. 

I saw them ; on the ground they lay. 
Golden and red, a huddled swarm, 

Waiting till one from far away. 

White bedclothes heaped upon her arm. 
Should come to wrap them safe and warm. 

The great bare Tree looked down and smiled. 

"Good-night, dear little leaves," he said. 
And from below each sleepy child 

Replied, "Good-night," and murmured, 

"It is so nice to go to bed ! " 

Susan Coolidge. 

•, 

Willie Winkle. 

"Wee Willie Winkie," by William Miller (1810-72), is included 
in this volume out of respect to an eight-year-old child who chose it 
from among hundreds. We had one poetry hour every week, and he 
studied and recited it with unabated interest to the end of the year. 

Wee Willie Winkle rins through the town, 
Up-stairs and doon-stairs, in his nicht-gown, 
Tirlin' at the window, cry in' at the lock, 
"Are the weans in their bed? — for it's now ten 
o'clock." 



i. 



14 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Hey, Willie Winkie ! are ye comin' ben? 

The cat's singin' gay thrums to the sleepin' hen, 

The doug's speldered on the floor, and disna gie a 

cheep ; 
But here 's a waukrife laddie that winna fa' asleep. 

Onything but sleep, ye rogue 1 glow'rin' like the 

moon, 
Rattlin' in an aim jug wi' an airn spoon, 
Rumblin' tumblin' roun' about, crowin' like a cock, 
Skirlin' like a kenna-what — wauknin' sleepin' folk. 

Hey, Willie Winkie ! the wean's in a creel ! 
Waumblin' aff a body's knee like a vera eel, 
Ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravellin' a' her 

thrums, — 
Hey, Willie Winkie ! — See, there he comes ! 

Wearie is the mither that has a storie wean, 
A wee stumpie stoussie that canna rin his lane, 
That has a battle aye wi' sleep before he'll close 

an ee; 
But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew 

to me. 

William Miller. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 15 



The Owl and the Pussy-Cat. 

"The Owl and the Pussy-Cat," by Edward Lear (1812-88), is placed 
here because I once found that a timid child was much strengthened 
and developed by learning it. It is a song that appeals to the imagina- 
tion of children, and they like to sing it. 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea 

In a beautiful pea-green boat; 
They took some honey, and plenty of money 

Wrapped up in a five-pound note. 
The Owl looked up to the moon above, 

And sang to a small guitar, 
" lovely Pussy ! O Pussy, my love ! 

What a beautiful Pussy you are, — 
You are. 

What a beautiful Pussy you are !" 

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl ! 

How wonderful sweet you sing ! 
Oh, let us be married, — too long we have tarried, — 

But what shall we do for a ring ? " 
They sailed away for a year and a day 

To the land where the Bong-tree grows, 
And there in a wood a piggy-wig stood 

With a ring in the end of his nose, — 
His nose, 

With a ring in the end of his nose. 

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling 
Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will." 

So they took it away, and were married next day 
By the turkey who lives on the hill. 



1 6 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

They dined upon mince and slices of qtiince, 
Which they ate with a runcible spoon, 
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand 
They danced by the light of the moon, — 

The moon, 
They danced by the light of the moon. 

Edward Lear. 



Wynken, Blynken, and Nod. 

"Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," by Eugene Field (1850-95), pleases 
children, who are all by natiire sailors and adventurers. 

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night 

Sailed off in a wooden shoe, — 
Sailed on a river of crystal light 

Into a sea of dew. 
"Where are you going, and what do you wish ? " 

The old moon asked the three. 
"We have come to fish for the herring-fish 
That live in this beautifud sea; 
Nets of silver and gold have we," 
Said Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 

The old moon laughed and sang a song. 
As they rocked in the wooden shoe ; 

And the wind that sped them all night long 
Ruffled the waves of dew; 

The little stars were the herring-fish 
That lived in the beautiful sea. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 1 7 

"Now cast your nets wherever you wish, — 
Never afeard are we !" 
So cried the stars to the fishermen three, 

Wynken, 

Blynken, 

And Nod. 

All night long their nets they threw 

To the stars in the twinkling foam, — 
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, 

Bringing the fishermen home: 
'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed 

As if it could not be; 
And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd 
dreamed 
Of sailing that beautiful sea ; 
But I shall name you the fishermen three: 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, 

And Nod is a little head, 
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies 

Is a wee one's trundle-bed; 
So shut your eyes while Mother sings 

Of wonderful sights that be. 
And you shall see the beautiful things 
As you rock on the misty sea 
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three , — 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 

Eugene Field. 



1 8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Duel. 

"The Duel," by Eugene Field (1850-95), is almost the most popular 
humorous poemi that has come under my notice. In making such a 
collection as this it is not easy to find poems at once delicate, witty, 
and graphic. I have taught "The Duel" hundreds of times, and chil- 
dren invariably love it. 

The gingham dog and the caHco cat 

Side by side on the table sat; 

'Twas half-past twelve, and (what do you think !) 

Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink ! 

The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate 

Appeared to know as sure as fate 

There was going to be a terrible spat. 

(/ wasn't there; I simply state 

What was told to me by the Chinese plate!) 

The gingham dog went " bow- wow- wow ! " 

And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!" 

The air was littered, an hour or so, 

With bits of gingham and calico, 

While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place 

Up with its hands before its face, 

For it always dreaded a family row ! 

(Now mind: Fm only telling you 

What the old Dutch clock declares is true!) 

The Chinese plate looked very blue, 

And wailed, "Oh, dear ! what shall we do ! " 

But the gingham dog and the calico cat 

Wallowed this way and tumbled that. 

Employing every tooth and claw 

In the awfullest way you ever saw— ^ 



Poems That tLvery Child Should Know 19 

And, oh ! how the gingham and cahco flew ! 

{Don't fancy I exaggerate ! 

I got my views from the Chinese plate !) 

Next morning where the two had sat 
They found no trace of the dog or cat ; 
And some folks think unto this day 
That burglars stole the pair away ! 
But the truth about the cat and the pup 
Is this : They ate each other up ! 
Now what do you really think of that ! 
{The old Dutch clock it told me so, 
And that is how I came to know.) 

Eugene Field. 

The Boy Who Never Told a Lie. 

"The Boy Who Never Told a Lie" (anonymous), as well as "Whatever 
Brawls Disturb the Street," by Isaac Watts (1674- 1748), are real gems. 
A few years ago they were more in favour than the poorer verse that 
has been put forward. But they are sure to be revived. 

Once there was a little boy, 

With curly hair and pleasant eye — 

A boy who always told the truth. 
And never, never told a lie. 

And when he trotted off to school, 
The children all about would cry, 

"There goes the curly-headed boy — 
The boy that never tells a lie." 

And everybody loved him so. 

Because he always told the truth, 

That every day, as he grew up, 

'Twas said, "There goes the honest youth," 



20 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And when the people that stood near 
Would turn to ask the reason why, 

The answer would be always this : 
"Because he never tells a lie." 



Love Between Brothers and Sisters. 

Whatever brawls disturb the street, 
There should be peace at home : 

Where sisters dwell and brothers meet, 
Quarrels should never come. 

Birds in their little nests agree ; 

And 'tis a shameful sight, 
When children of one family 

Fall out and chide and fight. 

Isaac Watts. 



The Bluebell of Scotland. 

Oh where ! and oh where ! is your Highland laddie 

gone? 
He's gone to fight the French for King George 

upon the throne; 
And it's oh ! in my heart how I wish him safe at 

home. 

Oh where ! and oh where ! does your Highland 

laddie dwell ? 
He dwells in merry Scotland at the sign of the 

Bluebell; 
And it's oh! in my heart that I love my laddie 

well. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 2 1 



If I Had But Two Little Wings. 

" If I Had But Two Little Wings , " by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772- 
1834), is recommended by a number of teachers and school-girls. 

If I had but two little wings 
And were a little feathery bird, 

To you I'd fly, my dear ! 
But thoughts like these are idle things 

And I stay here. 

But in my sleep to you I fly: 

I'm always with you in my sleep ! 
The world is all one's own. 
And then one wakes, and where am I ? 
All, all alone. 

Samuel T. Coleridge. 



A Farewell. 

"A Farewell," by Charles Kingsley (1819-75), makes it seem worth 
while to be good. 

My fairest child, I have no song to give you; 

No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray; 
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you 
For every day. 

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; 
Do noble things, not dream them all day long: 
And so make life, death, and that vast forever 
One grand, sweet song. 

Charles Kingsley. 



2 2 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Casablanca. 

"Casabianca," by Felicia Hemans (1793-1835). is the portrait of a 
faithful heart, an example of unreasoning obedience. It is right that 
a child should obey even to the death the commands of a loving parent. 

The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck 

Shone round him o'er the dead. 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm; 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud though childlike form. 

The flames rolled on — he would not go 

Without his father's word; 
That father, faint in death below, 

His voice no longer heard. 

He called aloud, "Say, father, say 

If yet my task is done ? " 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 

Unconscious of his son. 

** Speak, father!" once again he cried, 

** If I may yet be gone ! " 
And but the booming shots replied, 

And fast the flames rolled on. 

Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair; 
And looked from that lone post of death, 

In still, yet brave despair. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 23 

And shouted but once more aloud 

"My father! must I stay?" 
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, 

The wreathing fires made way. 

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child 

Like banners in the sky. 

Then came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — oh ! where was he ? 
— Ask of the winds that far around 

With fragments strew the sea ; 

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 
That well had borne their part — 

But the. noblest thing that perished there 
Was that young, faithful heart. 

Felicia Hemans. 



The Captain's Daughter. 

"The Captain's Daughter," by James T. Fields (1816-81), carries 
weight with every young audience. It is pointed to an end that 
children love — viz., trust in a higher power. 

We were crowded in the cabin. 
Not a soul would dare to sleep, — 

It was midnight on the waters, 
And a storm was on the deep. 



24 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

'Tis a fearftil thing in winter 
To be shattered by the blast, 

And to hear the rattling trumpet 
Thunder, ** Cut away the mast ! " 

So we shuddered there in silence, — 
For the stoutest held his breath, 

While the hungry sea was roaring 
And the breakers talked with Death. 

As thus we sat in darkness, 

Each one busy with his prayers, 

"We are lost !" the captain shouted 
As he staggered down the stairs. 

But his little daughter whispered, 

As she took his icy hand, 
"Isn't God upon the ocean, 

Just the same as on the land?" 

Then we kissed the little maiden. 
And we spoke in better cheer, 

And we anchored safe in harbour 
When the mom was shining clear. 

James T. Fields. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 25 

["The 'village smithy' stood in Brattle Street, 
Cambridge. There came a time when the chestnut- 
tree that shaded it was cut down, and then the 
children of the place put their pence together 
and had a chair made for the poet from its wood."] 

The Village Blacksmith. 

Longfellow (1807-82) is truly the children's poet. His poems are 
as simple, pathetic, artistic, and philosophical as if they were intended 
to tell the plain every-day story of life to older people. "The Village 
Blacksmith" has been learned by thousands of children, and there is 
no criticism to be put upon it. The age of the child has nothing what- 
ever to do with his learning it. Age does not grade children nor is 
poetry wholly to be so graded. "Time is the false reply." 

Under a spreading chestnut -tree 

The village smithy stands ; 
The smith, a mighty man is he. 

With large and sinewy hands ; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 

Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long; 

His face is like the tan ; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat, 

He earns whate'er he can, 
And looks the whole world in the face, 

For he owes not any man. 

Week in, week out, from mom till night. 
You can hear his bellows blow ; 

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 
With measured beat and slow. 

Like a sexton ringing the village bell, 
When the evening sun is low. 



26 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And children coming home from school 

Look in at the open door; 
They love to see the flaming forge, 

And hear the bellows roar, 
And catch the burning sparks that fly 

Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 

He goes on Sunday to the church, 

And sits among his boys; 
He hears the parson pray and preach, 

He hears his daughter's voice 
Singing in the village choir. 

And it makes his heart rejoice. 

It sounds to him like her mother's voice 

Singing in Paradise ! 
He needs must think of her once more, 

How in the grave she lies ; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 

A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, 
Onward through life he goes ; 

Each morning sees some task begin, 
Each evening sees it close; 

Something attempted, something done, 
Has earned a night's repose. 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
For the lesson thou hast taught ! 

Thus at the flaming forge of life 
Our fortunes must be wrought; 

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
Each burning deed and thought. 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 2 7 



Sweet and Low. 

Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea, 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 

Wind of the western sea ! 
Over the rolling waters go. 
Come from the dropping moon and blow. 

Blow him again to me ; 
While my little one, while my pretty one 
sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, 
Father will come to thee soon ; 

Rest, rest, on mother's breast, 
Father will come to thee soon ; 

Father will come to his babe in the nest. 

Silver sails all out of the west 
Under the silver moon: 

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, 
sleep. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



The Violet. 

"The Violet," by Jane Taylor (1783-1824), Is another of those dear 
old-fashioned poems, pure poetry and pure violet. It is included in 
this volume out of respect to my own love for it when I was a child. 

Down in a green and shady bed 

A modest violet grew ; 
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, 

As if to hide from view. 



2 8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And yet it was a lovely flower, 
No colours bright and fair; 

It might have graced a rosy bower, 
Instead of hiding there. 

Yet there it was content to bloom, 

In modest tints arrayed; 
And there diffused its sweet perfume, 

Within the silent shade. 

Then let me to the valley go, 

This pretty flower to see ; 
That I may also learn to grow 

In sweet humility. 

Jane Taylor. 



The Rainbow. 

(a fragment.) 

"The Rainbow," by William Wordsworth (1770- 1850), accords with 
every child's feelings. It voices the spirit of all ages that would love to 
imagine it "a bridge to heaven." 

My heart leaps up when I behold 

A rainbow in the sky; 
So was it when my life began, 
So is it now I am a man, 
So be it when I shall grow old. 

Or let me die ! 
The child is father of the man; 
And I could wish my days to be 
Bound each to each by natural piety. 

William Wordsworth. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 29 



A Visit From St. Nicholas. 

"A Visit From St. Nicholas," by Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863), 
is the most popular Christmas poem ever written. It carries Santa 
Claus on from year to year and the spirit of Santa Claus. 

'TwAS the night before Christmas, when all through 

the house 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; 
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, 
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; 
The children were nestled all snug in their beds. 
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ; 
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, 
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. 
Away to the window I flew like a flash. 
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. 
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below, 
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear. 
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer. 
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came. 
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by 

name ; 
"Now, Dasher! now. Dancer! now, Prancer and 

Vixen ! 
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Dander and Blitzen I 
To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall ! 
Now dash away ! dash away ! dash away all ! " 



30 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, 
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the 

sky; 
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, 
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too. 
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof 
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, 
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, 
And his clothes were all tarnished v/ith ashes and 

soot; 
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back. 
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 
His eyes — how they twinkled ! his dimples how 

merry ! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ! 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow. 
And the beard of his chin was as white as the 

snow ; 
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, 
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; 
He had a broad face and a little round belly. 
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of 

jelly. 
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ; 
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his 

work. 
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a 

jerk, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 3 1 

And laying his finger aside of his nose, 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; 
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, 
And away they all flew like the down on a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight 
''Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.'' 
Clement Clarke Moore. 



The Star-Spangled Banner. 

O ! SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light. 
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last 

gleaming — 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the 

clouds of the fight. 
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly 

streaming ! 
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in 

air, 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was 

still there ; 
O ! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave ? 

On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the 
deep, 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence 
reposes. 
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering 
steep, 
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses? 



^2 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first 

beam, 
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream; 
'Tis the star-spangled banner; O long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave ! 

And where is that band who so vatmtingly swore 
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion 

A home and a country should leave us no more? 
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' 
pollution. 

No refuge could save the hireling and slave 

From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave ; 

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth 
wave 

O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 

O ! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 

Between their loved homes and the war's 

desolation ! 
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n- 

rescued land 
Praise the power that hath made and preserved 

us a nation. 
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto — "In God is our trust": 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall 

wave 
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 






Poems That Every Child Should Know 7)3 



Father William. 

"Father William," a parody by Lewis Carroll (1833-), is even 
more clever than the original. Harmless fun brightens the world. 
It takes a real genius to create wit that carries no sting. 

"You are old, Father William," the young man said, 
' * And your hair has become very white ; 

And yet you incessantly stand on your head — 
Do you think, at your age, it is right ? " 

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son, 

"I feared it might injure the brain; 
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, 

Why, I do it again and again." 

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned 
before. 

And have grown most uncommonly fat; 
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door — 

Pray, what is the reason of that?" 

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his 
gray locks, 

"I kept all my limbs very supple 
By the use of this ointment — one shilling the box — 

Allow me to sell you a couple." 

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws 
are too weak 
For an3rthing tougher than suet ; 
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and 
the beak: 
Pray, how did you manage to do it ? " 



I 



34 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the 
law, 
And argued each case with my wife : 
And the muscular strength which it gave to my 
jaw 
Has lasted the rest of my life." 

"You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly 
suppose 

That your eye was as steady as ever; 
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose — 

What made you so awfully clever ? " 

"I have answered three questions, and that is 
enough," 
Said his father, "don't give yourself airs ! 
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff ? 
Be off, or I'll kick you down-stairs !" 

Lewis Carroll. 
("Alice in Wonderland.") 



The Nightingale and the Glow-worm. 

"The Nightingale," by William Cowper (1731-1800), is a favourite 
with a teacher of good taste, and I include it at her request. ^ 

A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long 
Had cheered the village with his song, 
Nor yet at eve his note suspended, 
Nor yet when eventide was ended, 
Began to feel, as well he might, 
The keen demands of appetite; 
When, looking eagerly around, 
He spied far off, upon the ground, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 35 

A something shining in the dark, 
And knew the glow-worm by his spark; 
So, stooping down from hawthorn top, 
He thought to put him in his crop. 
The worm, aware of his intent, 
Harangued him thus, right eloquent. 
"Did you admire my lamp," quoth he, 
"As much as I your minstrelsy. 
You would abhor to do me wrong, 
As much as I to spoil your song; 
For 'twas the self -same power divine. 
Taught you to sing and me to shine ; 
That you with music, I with light, 
Might beautify and cheer the night." 
The songster heard his short oration. 
And warbling out his approbation. 
Released him, as my story tells. 
And found a supper somewhere else. 

William Cowper. 



I 



I 




PART II, 



PART II 



The Frost. 

"Jack Frost," by Hannah Flagg Gould (1789-1865), is perhaps a 
hundred years old, but he is the same rollicking fellow to-day as of yore . 
The poem puts his merry pranks to the front and prepares the way 
for science to give him a true analysis. 

The Frost looked forth, one still, clear night, 
And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight; 
So through the valley and over the height, 

In silence I'll take my way: 
I will not go on with that blustering train, 
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, 
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain, 

But I'll be as busy as they." 

Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its 

crest ; 
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed 
In diamond beads — and over the breast 

Of the quivering lake he spread 
A coat of mail, that it need not fear 
The downward point of many a spear 
That hung on its margin far and near, 

Where a rock could rear its head. 

He went to the windows of those who slept, 
And over each pane, like a fairy, crept; 
Wherever he breathed, wherever he slept, 
By the light of the moon were seen 

39 



40 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Most beautiful things — ^there were flowers and trees ; 
There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees; 
There were cities with temples and towers, and 
these 
All pictured in silver sheen ! 

But he did one thing that was hardly fair; 
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there 
That all had forgotten for him to prepare — 

"Now just to set them a-thinking, 
I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he, 
"This costly pitcher I'll burst in three, 
And the glass of water they've left for me 

Shall 'tchichJ' to tell them I'm drinking." 

Hannah Flagg Gould. 

The Owl. 

When cats run home and light is come, 

And dew is cold upon the ground. 

And the far-off stream is dumb, 

And the whirring sail goes round. 

And the whirring sail goes round; 

Alone and warming his five wits, 

The white owl in the belfry sits. 

When merry milkmaids click the latch, 

And rarely smells the new-mown hay, 
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch 
Twice or thrice his roundelay, 
Twice or thrice his roundelay; 
Alone and warming his five wits, 
The white owl in the belfry sits. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



li 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 41 



Little Billee. ^ 

"Little Billee," by William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-63), finds 
a place here because it carries a good lesson good-naturedly rendered. 
An accomplished teacher recommends it, and I recollect two young 
children in Chicago who sang it frequently for years without getting 
tired of it. 

There were three sailors of Bristol city 

Who took a boat and went to sea. 
But first with beef and captain's biscuits 

And pickled pork they loaded she. 

There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy, 
And the youngest he was little Billee. 

Now when they got so far as the Equator 
They'd nothing left but one split pea. 

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, 

"I am extremely hungaree." 
To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, 

"We've nothing left, us must eat we." 

Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, 
"With one another, we shouldn't agree! 

There's little Bill, he's young and tender, 
We're old and tough, so let's eat he." 

"Oh! Billy, we're going to kill and eat you, 
So undo the button of your chemie." 

When Bill received this information 
He used his pocket -handkerchie. 

"First let me say my catechism, 

Which my poor mammy taught to me." 
*Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jimmy 
While Jack pulled out his snickersnee. 



42 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

So Billy went up to the main -topgallant mast, 
And down he fell on his bended knee. 

He scarce had come to the Twelfth Commandment 
When up he jumps, "There's land I see. 

"Jerusalem and Madagascar, 

And North and South Amerikee: 
There's the British flag a-riding at anchor, 

With Admiral Napier, K. C. B." 

So when they got aboard of the Admiral's 
He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee; 

But as for little Bill, he made him 
The Captain of a Seventy-three. 

William Makepeace Thackeray. 

The Butterfly and the Bee. 

"The Butterfly and the Bee," by William Lisle Bowles (1762-1850), 
is recommended by some school-girls. It carries a lesson in favour 
of the worker. 

Methought I heard a butterfly 

Say to a labouring bee: 
"Thou hast no colours of the sky 

On painted wings like me." 

"Poor child of vanity! those dyes. 
And colours bright and rare," 

With mild reproof, the bee replies, 
"Are all beneath my care. 

"Content I toil from morn to eve. 

And scorning idleness. 
To tribes of gaudy sloth I leave 

The vanity of dress." 

William Lisle Bowles. 



poems That Every Child Should Know 43 



An Incident of the French Camp. 

"An Incident of the French Camp," by Robert Browning (1812-89), 
is included in this volume out of regard to a boy of eight years who did 
not care for many poems, but this one stirred his heart to its depths. 

You know, we French storm'd Ratisbon: 

A mile or so away 
On a little mound, Napoleon 

Stood on our storming-day ; 
With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, 

Legs wide, arms lock'd behind, 
As if to balance the prone brow 

Oppressive with its mind. 



Just as perhaps he mus'd "My plans 

That soar, to earth may fall. 
Let once my army leader Lannes 

Waver at yonder wall," — 
Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew 

A rider, bound on bound 
Full -galloping; nor bridle drew 

Until he reach'd the mound. 



Then off there flung in smiling joy. 

And held him^self erect 
By just his horse's mane, a boy: 

You hardly could suspect — 
(So tight he kept his lips compress'd, 

Scarce any blood came through) 
You look'd twice ere you saw his breast 

Was all but shot in two. 



44 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace 

We've got you Ratisbon ! 
The Marshal's in the market-place, 

And you'll be there anon 
To see your flag-bird flap his vans 

Where I, to heart's desire. 
Perched him!" The chief 's eye flashed; his 
plans 

Soared up again like fire. 

The chief's eye flashed; but presently 

Softened itself, as sheathes 
A film the mother-eagle's eye 

When her bruised eaglet breathes; 
"You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's 
pride 

Touched to the quick, he said: 
** I'm killed. Sire ! " And his chief beside, 

Smiling the boy fell dead. 

Robert Browning. 



Robert of Lincoln. 

"Robert of Lincoln," by William CuUen Bryant (1794-1878), is one 
of the finest bird poems ever written. It finds a place here because I 
have seen it used effectively as a memory gem in the Cook County 
Normal School (Colonel Parker's school), year after year, and because 
my own pupils invariably like to commit it to memory. With the child 
of six to the student of twenty years it stands a source of deUght. 

Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 

Near to the nest of his little dame, 
Over the mountain-side or mead, 

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name. 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 45 

Snug and safe is this nest of ours, 
Hidden among the summer flowers. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

R6bert of Lincoln is gayly dressed, 

Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat; 
White are his shoulders, and white his crest, 
Hear him call in his merry note, 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink. 
Look what a nice, new coat is mine; 
Sure there was never a bird so fine. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, 

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, 
Passing at home a patient life. 

Broods in the grass while her husband sings, 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink. 
Brood, kind creature, you need not fear 
Thieves and robbers while I am here. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Modest and shy as a nun is she; 

One weak chirp is her only note ; 
Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, 
Pouring boasts from his little throat, 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink. 
Never w-as I afraid of man. 
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can. 
Chee, chee, chee. 



46 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Six white eggs on a bed of hay, 

Flecked with purple, a pretty sight: 
There as the raother sits all day, 
Robert is singing with all his might, 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 
Nice good wife that never goes out, 
Keeping house while I frolic about. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Soon as the little ones chip the shell, 
Six wide mouths are open for food ; 
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, 
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood: 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink. 
This new life is likely to be 
Hard for a gay young fellow like me. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln at length is m.ade 

Sober with work, and silent with care. 
Off is his holiday garment laid. 
Half forgotten that merry air, 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 
Nobody knows but my mate and I, 
Where our nest and our nestlings lie. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Summer wanes; the children are grown; 
Fun and frolic no more he knows, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 47 

Robert of Lincoln's a hum-drum drone; 
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes, 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink, 
When you can pipe that merry old strain, 
Robert of Lincoln, come back again. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

William Cullen Bryant. 



Old Grimes. 

"Old Grimes" (anonymous) is an heirloom, an antique gem. We 
learn it as a matter of course for its sparkle and glow. 

Old Grimes is dead ; that good old man, 

We ne'er shall see him more; 
He used to wear a long, black coat, 

All buttoned down before. 

His heart was open as the day, 

His feelings all were true; 
His hair was some inclined to gray, 

He wore it in a queue. 

He lived at peace with all mankind, 

In friendship he was true ; 
His coat had pocket -holes behind, 

His pantaloons were blue. 

He modest merit sought to find, 

And pay it its desert ; 
He had no malice in his mind, 

No ruffles on his shirt. 



48 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

His neighbours he did not abuse, 

Was sociable and gay; 
He wore large buckles on his shoes, 

And changed them every day. 

His knowledge, hid from public gaze, 
He did not bring to view, * 

Nor make a noise town -meeting days. 
As many people do. 

His worldly goods he never threw 
In trust to fortune's chances, 

But lived (as all his brothers do) 
In easy circumstances. 

Thus undisturbed by anxious cares 

His peaceful moments ran; 
And everybody said he was 

A fine old gentleman. 

Albert Gorton Greene. 



Song of Life. 

A TRAVELLER ou a dusty road 

. Strewed acorns on the lea ; 

And one took root and sprouted up, 

And grew into a tree. 
Love sought its shade at evening-time. 

To breathe its early vows ; 
And Age was pleased, in heights of noon, 

To bask beneath its boughs. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 49 

The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, 

The birds sweet music bore — 
It stood a glory in its place, 

A blessing evermore. 

A little spring had lost its way 

Amid the grass and fern; 
A passing stranger scooped a well 

Where weary men might turn. 
He walled it in, and hung with care 

A ladle on the brink; 
He thought not of the deed he did, 

But judged that Toil might drink. 
He passed again; and lo ! the well, 

By summer never dried. 
Had cooled ten thousand parched tongues, 

And saved a life beside. 

A nameless man, amid the crowd 

That thronged the daily mart. 
Let fall a word of hope and love. 

Unstudied from the heart, 
A whisper on the tumult thrown, 

A transitory breath. 
It raised a brother from the dust. 

It saved a soul from death. 
O germ ! O fount ! O word of love ! 

O thought at random cast I 
Ye were but little at the first. 

But mighty at the last. 

Charles Mackay. 



50 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Fairy Song. 

Shed no tear ! O shed no tear ! 
The flower will bloom another year. 
Weep no more ! O, weep no more ! 
Young buds sleep in the root's white core. 
Dry your eyes ! Oh ! dry your eyes ! 
For I was taught in Paradise 
To ease my breast of melodies — 
Shed no tear. 

Overhead ! look overhead ! 
'Mong the blossoms white and red — 
Look up, look up. I flutter now 
On this flush pomegranate bough. 
See me ! 'tis this silvery bell 
Ever cures the good man's ill. 
Shed no tear ! O, shed no tear ! 
The flowers will bloom another year. 
Adieu, adieu — I fly, adieu, 
I vanish in the heaven's blue — 
Adieu, adieu ! 

John Keats. 



A Boy's Song. 

"A Boy's Song," by James Hogg (1770-1835), is a sparkling poem, 
very attractive to children. 

Where the pools are bright and deep, 
Where the gray trout lies asleep, 
Up the river and o'er the lea. 
That's the way for Billy and me. 



m 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 51 

Where the blackbird sings the latest, 
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, 
Where the nestlir^^s chirp and flee, 
That's the wa> Billy and me. 

Where the mowers mow the cleanest, 
Where the hay lies thick and greenest, 
There to trace the homeward bee, 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the hazel bank is steepest, 
Where the shadow falls the deepest, 
Where the clustering nuts fall free. 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Why the boys should drive away 
Little sweet maidens from the play, 
Or love to banter and fight so well. 
That's the thing I never could tell. 

But this I know, I love to play. 
Through the meadow, among the hay; 
Up the water and o'er the lea, 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

James Hogg. 



Buttercups and Daisies. 

Buttercups and daisies, 
Oh, the pretty flowers; 

Coming ere the spring time. 
To tell of sunny hours. 



52 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

While the trees are leafless, 
While the fields are bare, 

Buttercups and daisies 
Spring up here and there. 

Ere the snowdrop peepeth, 

Ere the crocus bold. 
Ere the early primrose 

Opes its paly gold, 
Somewhere on the sunny bank 

Buttercups are bright; 
Somewhere 'mong the frozen grass 

Peeps the daisy white. 

Little hardy flowers, 

Like to children poor, 
Playing in their sturdy health 

By their mother's door, 
Purple with the north wind. 

Yet alert and bold; 
Fearing not, and caring not, 

Though they be a-cold ! 

What to them is winter ! 

What are stormy showers! 
Buttercups and daisies 

Are these human flowers ! 
He who gave them hardships 

And a life of care, 
Gave them likewise hardy strength 

And patient hearts to bear. 

Mary Howitt. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 53 



The Rainbow. 

Triumphal arch, that fills the sky- 
When storms prepare to part, 

I ask not proud Philosophy 
To teach me what thou art. 

Still seem, as to my childhood's sight, 

A midway station given, 
For happy spirits to alight, 

Betwixt the earth and heaven. 

Thomas Campbell. 



Old Ironsides. 

"Old Ironsides," by Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-94), is learned 
readily. Children are untouched by the commercial spirit which is 
the reproach of this age. "Ingratitude is the vice of republics," and 
this poem puts to shame the love of money and the spirit of ingrati- 
tude that could let a national servant become a wreck. 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar; — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more. 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 
Where knelt the vanquished foe. 

When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 
And waves were white below, 



54 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

No more shall feel the victor's tread, 
Or know the conquered knee; 

The harpies of the shore shall pluck 
The eagle of the sea ! 

O, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms. 

The lightning and the gale ! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



Lfittle Orphant Annie. 

"Little Orphant Annie" certainly earns her "board and keep" when 
she has "washed the dishes," "swept up the crumbs," "driven the 
chickens from the porch," and done all the other odds and ends of work 
on a farm. The poet, James Whitcomb Riley (1853-), has shown 
how truly a little child may be overtaxed and yet preserve a brave 
spirit and keen imagination. Children invariably love to learn this 
poem. 

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay, 
An' wash the cups and saucers up, an' brush the | 

crumbs away, 
An* shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the 

hearth, an' sweep, 
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her 

board-an'-keep; 
An' all us other children, when the supper things 

is done, 
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest 

fun 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 55 

A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about, 
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you 
Ef you 
Don't 

Watch 
Out! 

Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his 

pray'rs — 
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs, 
His mammy heerd him holler, an' his daddy heerd 

him bawl, 
An' when they tum't the kivvers down, he wasn't 

there at all ! 
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby- 
hole, an' press, 
An' seeked him up the chimbly flue, an' ever'- 

wheres, I guess; 
But all they ever found was thist his pants an' 

roundabout ! 
An' the Gobble-uns '11 git you 
Ef you 
Don't 

Watch 
Out! 

An' one time a little girl 'ud alius laugh an' grin, 
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin; 
An' onc't when they was "company," an' ole folks 

was there. 
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she 

didn't care ! 



56 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run 

an' hide, 
They was two great big Black Things a-standin' 

by her side, 
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore 

she knowed what she's about ! 
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you 
Ef you 
Don't 

Watch 
Out! 

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is 

blue, 
An' the lampwick sputters, an' the wind goes 

woo-oo ! 
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is 

gray, 
An' the light nin '-bugs in dew is all squenched 

away, — 
You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers 

fond an' dear, 
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the or- 

phant's tear, 
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all 

about, 
Er the Gobble-uns'll git you 
Ef you 
Don't 

Watch 
Out! 
James Whitcomb Riley, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 57 



O Captain ! My Captain ! 

"O Captain! My Captain!" by "Walt Whitman (1819-92), is placed 
here out of compliment to a little boy aged ten who wanted to recite 
it once a week for a year. This song and Edwin Markham's poem on 
Lincoln are two of the greatest tributes ever paid to that hero 

O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done, 
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we 

sought is won. 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all 

exulting, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim 
and daring; 
But O heart ! heart ! heart ! 
O the bleeding drops of red. 

Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain ! my Captain ! rise up and hear the bells; 
Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the 

bugle trills, 
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you 

the shores a-crowding, 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager 
faces turning; 
Here Captain ! dear father ! 
This arm beneath your head ! 

It is some dream that on the deck 
You've fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and 

still, 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse 

nor will. 



58 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage 

closed and done, 
From fearftil trip the victor ship comes in with 
object won; 
Exult O shores, and ring O bells ! 
But I, with mournful tread, 

Walk the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

Walt Whitman. 



Ingratitude. 

"Ingratitude," by William Shakespeare (i 564-161 6), is an incisive 
thrust at a refined vice. It is a part of education to learn to be grateful. 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
Thou are not so unkind 

As man's ingratitude; 
Thy tooth is not so keen 
Because thou art not seen. 

Although thy breath be rude. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky. 
Thou dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot ; 
Though thou the waters warp. 
Thy sting is not so sharp 

As friend remembered not. 

William Shakespeare. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 59 



The Ivy Green. 

"The Ivy Green," by Charles Dickens (1812-70), is a hardy poem 
in honour of a hardy plant. There is a wonderful ivy growing at 
Rhudlan, in northern Wales. Its roots are so large and strong that they 
form a comfortable seat for many persons, and no one can remember 
when they were smaller. This ivy envelops a great castle in niins. 
Every child in that locality loves the old ivy. It is typical of the ivy 
as seen all through Wales and England. 

O, A DAINTY plant is the ivy green, 

That creepeth o'er ruins old ! 
Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, 

In his cell so lone and cold. 
The walls must be crumbled, the stones decayed. 

To pleasure his dainty whim; 
And the mouldering dust that years have made 

Is a merry meal for him. 

Creeping where no life is seen, 
A rare old plant is the ivy green. 

Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, 

And a staunch old heart has he ! 
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings 

To his friend, the huge oak tree ! 
And slyly he traileth along the ground. 

And his leaves he gently waves, 
And he joyously twines and hugs around 

The rich motild of dead men's graves. 
Creeping where no life is seen, 
A rare old plant is the ivy green. 

Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed, 
And nations have scattered been; 



6o Poems That Every Child Should Know 

But the stout old ivy shall never fade 

From its hale and hearty green. 
The brave old plant in its lonely days 

Shall fatten upon the past ; 
For the stateliest building man can raise 
Is the ivy's food at last. 

Creeping where no life is seen, 
A rare old plant is the ivy green. 

Charles Dickens. 



The Noble Nature. 

"The Noble Nature," by Ben Jonson (157 4- 1637), needs no plea. 
A small virtue well polished is better than none. 

It is not growing like a tree 
In bulk doth make man better be; 
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear 
A lily of a day 
Is fairer far in May, 
Although it fall and die that night, — 
It was the plant and flower of light. 
In small proportions we just beauties see; 
And in short measures life may perfect be. 

Ben Jonson. 



The Flying Squirrel. 

"The Flying Squirrel" is an honest account of a live creature that 
won his way into scores of hearts by his mad pranks and affectionate 
ways. It is enough that John Burroughs has commended the poem. 



Of all the woodland creatures, 
The quaintest little sprite 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 6i 

Is the dainty flying squirrel 

In vest of shining white, 
In coat of silver gray, 

And vest of shining white. 

His furry Quaker jacket 

Is trimmed with stripe of black; 

A furry plume to match it 
Is curling o'er his back; 

New curved with every motion, 
His plume curls o'er his back. 

No little new-born baby 

Has pinker feet than he; 
Each tiny toe is cushioned 

With velvet cushions three; 
Three wee, pink, velvet cushions 

Almost too small to see. 

Who said, "The foot of baby 
Might tempt an angel's kiss".f* 

I know a score of school-boys 
Who put their lips to this, — 

This wee foot of the squirrel. 
And left a loving kiss. 

The tiny thief has hidden 

My candy and my plum; 
Ah, there he comes unbidden 

To gently nip my thumb, — 
Down in his home (my pocket) 

He gently nips my thumb. 



62 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

How strange the food he covets, 
The restless, restless wight; — 

Fred's old stuffed armadillo 
He found a tempting bite, 

Fred's old stuffed armadillo. 
With ears a perfect fright. 

The Lady Ruth's great bureau, 
Each foot a dragon's paw ! 

The midget ate the nails from 
His famous antique claw. 

Oh, what a cruel beastie 
To hurt a dragon's claw ! 

To autographic copies 

Upon my choicest shelf, — 

To every dainty volume 

The rogue has helped himself. 

My books ! Oh dear ! No matter ! 
The rogue has helped himself. 

And yet, my little squirrel. 
Your taste is not so bad; 

You've swallowed Caird completely 
And psychologic Ladd. 

Rosmini you've digested, 

And Kant in rags 3^ou've clad. 

Gnaw on, my elfish rodent ! 

Lay all the sages low ! 
My pretty lace and ribbons, 

They're yours for weal or woe ! 
My pocket-book's in tatters 

Because you like it so. 

Mary E. Burt. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 63 



Warren's Address to the American Soldiers. 

There is never a boy who objects to learning "Warren's Address," 
by John Pierpont (1785-1866). To stand by one's own rights is inher- 
ent in every true American. This poem is doubtless developed from 
Robert Bums's "Bannockbum." (i 785-1 866.) 

Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves ! 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 
Will ye look for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still? 
What's the mercy despots feel ? 
Hear it in that battle-peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it, — ye who will. 

Fear ye foes who kill for hire? 
Will ye to your homes retire? 
Look behind you ! they're afire ! 

And, before you, see 
Who have done it ! — From the vale 
On they come ! — And will ye quail ? — 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

In the God of battles trust ! 
Die we may, — and die we must; 
But, O, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well. 
As where Heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his deeds to tell ! 

John Pierpont. 



64 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Song in Camp. 

"The Song in Camp" is Bayard Taylor's best effort as far as young 
boys and girls are concerned. It is a most valuable poem. I once 
heard a clergyman in Chicago use it as a text for his sermon. Since 
then "Annie Laurie" has become the song of the Labour party. "The 
Song in Camp" voices a universal feeling. (1825-78.) 

"Give us a song!" the soldiers cried, 

The outer trenches guarding, 
When the heated guns of the camps allied 

Grew weary of bombarding. 

The dark Redan, in silent scoff, 
Lay, grim and threatening, under; 

And the tawny mound of the Malakoff 
No longer belched its thunder. 

There was a pause. A guardsman said, 

"We storm the forts to-morrow; 
Sing while we may, another day 

Will bring enough of sorrow." 

They lay along the battery's side. 

Below the smoking cannon: 
Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, 

And from the banks of Shannon. 



They sang of love, and not of fame; 

Forgot was Britain's glory: 
Each heart recalled a different name, 

But all sang "Annie Laurie." 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 65 

Voice after voice caught up the song, 

Until its tender passion 
Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, — 

Their battle-eve confession. 

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, 

But, as the song grew louder. 
Something upon the soldier's cheek 

Washed off the stains of powder. 

Beyond the darkening ocean burned 

The bloody sunset's embers, 
While the Crimean valleys learned 

How English love remembers. 

And once again a fire of hell 

Rained on the Russian quarters, 
With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 

And bellowing of the mortars ! 

And Irish Nora's eyes are dim 

For a singer, dumb and gory; 
And English Mary mourns for him 

Who sang of "Annie Laurie." 

Sleep, soldiers ! still in honoured rest 

Your truth and valour wearing: 
The bravest are the tenderest, — 

The loving are the daring. 

Bayard Taylor. 



66 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Bugle Song. 

"The Bugle Song" (by Alfred Tennyson, 1809-90), says Heydrick, 
"has for its central theme the undying power of human love. The 
music is notable for sweetness and delicacy." 

The splendour falls on castle walls 

And snowy summits old in story: 
The long light shakes across the lakes 

And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, 
And thinner, clearer, farther going ! 

O sweet and far from cliff and scar 
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: 

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

O love, they die in yon rich sky, 

They faint on hill or field or river: 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 

And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 67 



The "Three Bells" of Glasgow. 

"The Three Bells of Glasgow," by Whittier (1807-92), cannot be 
praised too highly for its ethical value. Children always love to learn 
it after hearing it read correctly and by one who understands and 
appreciates it. "Stand by" is the motto. My pupils teach it to me 
once a year and learn it themselves, too. 

Beneath the low-hung night cloud 
That raked her splintering mast 

The good ship settled slowly, 
The cruel leak gained fast. 

Over the awful ocean 

Her signal guns pealed out. 
Dear God ! was that Thy answer 

From the horror round about ? 

A voice came down the wild wind, 

" Ho ! ship ahoy ! " its cry: 
"Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow 

Shall stand till daylight by!" 

Hour after hour crept slowly, 

Yet on the heaving swells 
Tossed up and down the ship-lights, 

The lights of the Three Bells! 

And ship to ship made signals, 
Man answered back to man, 

While oft, to cheer and hearten. 
The Three Bells nearer ran: 

And the captain from her taffrail 

Sent down his hopeful cry. 
"Take heart ! Hold on ! " he shouted. 

"The Three Bells shall stand by!" 



68 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

All night across the waters 

The tossing lights shone clear; 

All night from reeling taffrail 
The Three Bells sent her cheer. 

And when the dreary watches 
Of storm and darkness passed, 

Just as the wreck lurched under, 
All souls were saved at last. 

Sail on, Three Bells, forever. 

In grateful memory sail ! 
Ring on, Three Bells of rescue. 

Above the wave and gale ! 

Type of the Love eternal. 

Repeat the Master's cry, 
As tossing through our darkness 

The lights of God draw nigh ! 

John G. Whittier. 

Sheridan's Ride. 

There never was a boy who did not like "Sheridan's Ride," by T. 
Buchanan Read (1822-72). The swing and gallop in it take every 
boy off from his feet. The children never teach this poem to me, because 
they love to learn it at first sight. It is easily memorised. 

Up from the South at break of day. 
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door. 
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, 
Telling the battle was on once more. 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 69 

And wider still those billows of war 

Thundered along the horizon's bar; 

And louder yet into Winchester rolled 

The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, 

Making the blood of the listener cold 

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 

And Sheridan twenty miles away. 

But there is a road from Winchester town, 

A good, broad highway leading down; 

And there, through the flush of the morning light, 

A steed as black as the steeds of night 

Was seen to pass as with eagle flight; 

As if he knew the terrible need. 

He stretched away with his utmost speed; 

Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay, 

With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering 

South, 
The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth; 
Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, 
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. 
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master 
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls. 
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; 
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play. 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

Under his spurning feet the road 
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed. 
And the landscape sped away behind 
Like an ocean flying before the wind, 



70 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire, 

Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire. 

But lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire; 

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, 

With Sheridan only five miles away. 

The first that the General saw were the groups 
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. 
What was done — what to do ? A glance told him 

both, 
Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, 
He dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas. 
And the wave of retreat checked its course there, 

because 
The sight of the master compelled it to pause. 
With foam and with dust the black charger was 

gray; 
By the flash of his eye, and the red nostrils' play. 
He seemed to the whole great army to say: 
' ' I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
From Winchester down to save the day !" 

Hurrah ! hurrah for Sheridan ! 

Hurrah ! hurrah for horse and man ! 

And when their statues are placed on high, 

Under the dome of the Union sky, 

The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, 

There with the glorious General's name 

Be it said, in letters both bold and bright: 

"Here is the steed that saved the day, 

By carrying Sheridan into the fight 

From Winchester, twenty miles away!" 

Thomas Buchanan Read. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 7 1 



The Sandpiper. 

"The Sandpiper," by Celia Thaxter (1836-94), is placed here because 
goodly percentage of the children who read it want to learn it. 

Across the lonely beach we flit, 

One little sandpiper and I, 
And fast I gather, bit by bit, 

The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry. 
The wild waves reach their hands for it. 

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, 
As up and down the beach we flit. 

One little sandpiper and I. 

Above our heads the sullen clouds 

Scud, black and swift, across the sky; 
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 

Stand out the white lighthouses high. 
Almost as far as eye can reach 

I see the close-reefed vessels fly, 
As fast we flit along the beach, 

One little sandpiper and I. 

I watch him as he skims along. 

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; 
He starts not at my fitful song. 

Nor flash of fluttering drapery. 
He has no thought of any wrong, 

He scans me with a fearless eye; 
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 

The little sandpiper and I. 

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night. 
When the loosed storm breaks furiously? 



72 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

My driftwood fire will burn so bright ! 

To what warm shelter canst thou fly? 
I do not fear for thee, though wroth 

The tempest rushes through the sky; 
For are we not God's children both, 

Thou, little sandpiper, and I ? 

Celia Thaxter. 

Lady Clare. 

Girls always love "Lady Clare" and "The Lord of Burleigh." They 
like to think that it is enough to be a splendid woman without title or 
wealth. They want to be loved, if they are loved at all, for their good 
hearts and graces of mind. Tennyson (1809-92) makes this point 
repeatedly through his poems. 

It was the time when lilies blow 

And clouds are highest up in air; 
Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe 

To give his cousin, Lady Clare. 

I trow they did not part in scorn: 

Lovers long-betroth'd were they: 
They too will wed the morrow mom: 

God's blessing on the day ! 

"He does not love me for my birth. 
Nor for my lands so broad and fair; 

He loves me for my own true worth, 
And that is well," said Lady Clare. 

In there came old Alice the nurse; 

Said: "Who was this that went from thee?" 
"It was my cousin," said Lady Clare; 

"To-morrow he weds with me." 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 73 

"O God be thank'd !" said Alice the nurse, 
"That all comes round so just and fair: 

Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, 
And you are not the Lady Clare." 

*'Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse," 
Said Lady Clare, ''that ye speak so wild?" 

"As God's above," said Alice the nurse, 
"I speak the truth: you are my child. 

"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast; 

I speak the truth, as I live by bread ! 
I buried her like my own sweet child, 

And put my child in her stead." 

"Falsely, falsely have ye done, 

O mother," she said, "if this be true. 

To keep the best man under the sun 
So many years from his due." 

"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 

"But keep the secret for your life. 
And all you have will be Lord Ronald's 

When you are man and wife." 

"If I'm a beggar born," she said, 
"I will speak out, for I dare not lie. 

Pull off, pull off the brooch of gold. 
And fling the diamond necklace by." 

"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, 

" But keep the secret all ye can." 
She said: "Not so: but I will know 

If there be any faith in man." 



74 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse; 

"The man will cleave unto his right." 
"And he shall have it," the lady replied, 

"Tho' I should die to-night." 

"Yet give one kiss to your mother dear! 

Alas ! my child, I sinn'd for thee." 
"O mother, mother, mother," she said, 

"So strange it seems to me. 

"Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear. 

My mother dear, if this be so, 
And lay your hand upon my head, 

And bless me, mother, ere I go." 

She clad herself in a russet gown, 

She was no longer Lady Clare: 
She went by dale, and she went by down, 

With a single rose in her hair. 

The Hly-white doe Lord Ronald had brought 

Leapt up from where she lay, 
Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, 

And follow' d her all the way. 

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower: 
"O Lady Clare, you shame your worth ! 

Why come you drest like a village maid. 
That are the flower of the earth?" 

"If I come drest like a village maid, 

I am but as my fortunes are: 
I am a beggar born," she said, 

"And not the Lady Clare.'* 



Poems That Every Child ShotUd Know 75 

"Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, 
"For I am yours in word and in deed. 

Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, 
"Your riddle is hard to read." 

O and proudly stood she up ! 

Her heart within her did not fail: 
She look'd into Lord Ronald's eyes, 

And told him all her nurse's tale. 

He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn: 

He turn'd and kiss'd her where she stood: 

"If you are not the heiress born, 

And I," said he, "the next in blood — 

"If you are not the heiress born, 

And I," said he, "the lawful heir,. 
We two will wed to-morrow morn. 

And you shall still be Lady Clare." 

Alfred Tennyson. 



The Lord of Burleigh. 

In her ear he whispers gaily, 

"If my heart by signs can tell. 
Maiden, I have watched thee daily, 

And I think thou lov'st me well." 
She replies, in accents fainter, 

"There is none I love like thee." 
He is but a landscape-painter, 

And a village maiden she. 



76 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

He to lips, that fondly falter, 

Presses his without reproof; 
Leads her to the village altar, 

And they leave her father's roof. 

**I can make no marriage present; 

Little can I give my wife. 
Love will make our cottage pleasant, 

And I love thee more than life." 

The}?- by parks and lodges going 

See the lordly castles stand; 
Summer woods, about them blowing, 

Made a murmur in the land. 

From deep thought himself he rouses, 
Says to her that loves him well, 

"Let us see these handsome houses 
Where the wealthy nobles dwell." 

So she goes by him attended. 

Hears him lovingly converse. 
Sees whatever fair and splendid 

Lay betwixt his home and hers. 
Parks with oak and chestnut shady, 

Parks and order' d gardens great, 
Ancient homes of lord and lady. 

Built for pleasure and for state. 

All he shows her makes him dearer; 

Evermore she seems to gaze 
On that cottage growing nearer, 

Where they twain will spend their days. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 'j'j 

O but she will love him truly ! 

He shall have a cheerful home; 
She will order all things duly 

When beneath his roof they come. 

Thus her heart rejoices greatly 

Till a gateway she discerns 
With armorial bearings stately, 

And beneath the gate she turns ; 
Sees a mansion more majestic 

Than all those she saw before; 
Many a gallant gay domestic 

Bows before him at the door. 

And they speak in gentle murmur 

When they answer to his call, 
While he treads with footstep firmer, 

Leading on from hall to hall. 

And while now she wanders blindly, 

Nor the meaning can divine, 
Proudly turns he round and kindly, 

"All of this is mine and thine." 

Here he lives in state and bounty, 

Lord of Burleigh, fair and free. 
Not a lord in all the county 

Is so great a lord as he. 
All at once the colour flushes 

Her sweet face from brow to chin ; 
As it were with shame she blushes. 

And her spirit changed within. 



78 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Then her countenance all over 
Pale again as death did prove: 

But he clasp'd her like a lover, 
And he cheer'd her soul with love. 

So she strove against her weakness, 

Tho' at times her spirits sank; 
Shaped her heart with woman's meekness 

To all duties of her rank; 
And a gentle consort made he. 

And her gentle mind was such 
That she grew a noble lady. 

And the people loved her much. 
But a trouble weigh' d upon her 

And perplex 'd her, night and morn, 
With the burden of an honour 

Unto which she was not born. 

Faint she grew and ever fainter. 
As she murmur'd, "Oh, that he 

Were once more that landscape-painter 
Which did win my heart from me ! " 

So she droop'd and droop'd before him, 
Fading slowly from his side ; 

Three fair children first she bore him, 
Then before her time she died. 

Weeping, weeping late and early, 
Walking up and pacing down. 

Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh, 
Burleigh-house by Stamford-town 



. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 79 

And he came to look upon her, 

And he look'd at her and said, 
"Bring the dress and put it on her 

That she wore when she was wed." 

Then her people, softly treading. 

Bore to earth her body, drest 
In the dress that she was wed in, 

That her spirit might have rest. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



Hiawatha's Childhood. 

"Hiawatha" needs no commendation. Hundreds of thousands of 
children in our land know snatches of it. It is a child's poem, every 
line of it. One summer in Boston more than 50,000 people went to 
take a peep at the poet's house. (1807-82.) 

By the shores of Gitche Gumee, 
By the shining Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood the wigv/am of Nokomis, 
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. 
Dark behind it rose the forest, 
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees. 
Rose the firs with cones upon them; 
Bright before it beat the water. 
Beat the clear and sunny water, 
Beat the shining Big-Sea- Water. 

There the wrinkled old Nokomis 
Nursed the little Hiawatha, 
Rocked him in his linden cradle, 
Bedded soft in moss and rushes, 
Safely bound with reindeer sinews; 



8o Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Stilled his fretful wail by saying, 

" Hush ! the Naked Bear will hear thee ! " 

Lulled him into slumber, singing, 

"Ewa-yea ! my little owlet ! 

Who is this that lights the wigwam ? 

With his great eyes lights the wigwam ? 

Ewa-yea ! my little owlet ! " 

Many things Nokomis taught him 
Of the stars that shine in heaven; 
Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet, 
Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses; 
Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits, 
Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs, 
Flaring far away to northward 
In the frosty nights of winter ; 
Showed the broad, white road in heaven, 
Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows, 
Running straight across the heavens, 
Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows. 

At the door, on summer evenings, 
Sat the little Hiawatha; 
Heard the whispering of the pine-trees. 
Heard the lapping of the water, 
Sounds of music, words of wonder; 
" Minnie-wawa ! " said the pine-trees, 
" Mudway-aushka ! " said the water; 
Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, 
Flitting through the dusk of evening, 
With the twinkle of its candle 
Lighting up the brakes and bushes, 
And he sang the song of children, 



poems That Every Child Should Know 8i 

Sang the song Nokomis taught him: 
" Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly, 
Little", flitting, white-fire insect, 
Little, dancing, white-fire creature, 
Light me with your little candle, 
Ere upon my bed I lay me, 
Ere in sleep I close my eyelids ! " 

Saw the moon rise from the water 
Rippling, rounding from the water, 
Saw the flecks and shadows on it. 
Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?'* 
And the good Nokomis answered: 
"Once a warrior, very angry, 
Seized his grandmother, and threw her 
Up into the sky at midnight ; 
Right against the moon he threw her; 
'Tis her body that you see there." 

Saw the rainbow in the heaven. 

In the eastern sky, the rainbow. 

Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?" 

And the good Nokomis answered : 

" 'Tis the heaven of flowers you see there; 

All the wild-flowers of the forest, 

All the lilies of the prairie, 

When on earth they fade and perish, 

Blossom in that heaven above us." 

When he heard the owls at midnight, 
Hooting, laughing in the forest, 
"What is that?" he cried, in terror; 
"What is that," he said, "Nokomis?" 



82 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And the good Nokomis answered : 
"That is but the owl and owlet, 
Talking in their native language, 
Talking, scolding at each other." 

Then the little Hiawatha 
Learned of every bird its language, 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How they built their nests in summer, 
Where they hid themselves in winter, 
Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens." 

Of all beasts he learned the language, 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How the beavers built their lodges, 
Where the squirrels hid their acorns, 
How the reindeer ran so swiftly. 
Why the rabbit was so timid, 
Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers." 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud. 

"The Daffodil" is here out of compliment to a splendid school and a 
splendid teacher at Poughkeepsie. I found the pupils learning the 
poem, the teacher having placed a bunch of daffodils in a vase before 
them. It was a charming lesson. (1770-96.) 

I WANDERED louely as a cloud 

That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

When all at once I saw a crowd, 
A host of golden daffodils: 

Beside the lake, beneath the trees. 

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 83 

Continuous as the stars that shine 

And twinkle on the milky way, 
They stretched in never-ending line 

Along the margin of a bay: 
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced, but they 
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: — 

A poet could not but be gay 
In such a jocund company; 

I gazed — and gazed — but little thought 

What wealth the show to me had brought. 

For oft, when on my couch I lie 

In vacant or in pensive mood. 
They flash upon that inward eye 

Which is the bliss of solitude; 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils. 

William Wordsworth. 



John Barleycorn. 

"John Barleycorn" is a favourite with boys because it pictures a 
successful struggle. One editor has made a temperance poem of it, 
mistaking its true intent. The poem is a strong expression of a plow- 
man's love for a hardy, food-giving grain which has sprung to life through 
his efforts. (1759-96.) 

There were three kings into the East, 
Three kings both great and high; 

And they ha'e sworn a solemn oath 
John Barleycorn should die. 



84 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

They took a plow and plowed him down, 

Put clods upon his head; 
And they ha'e sworn a solemn oath 

John Barleycorn was dead. 

But the cheerful spring came kindly on, 

And showers began to fall ; 
John Barleycorn got up again. 

And sore surprised them all. 

The sultry suns of summer came. 
And he grew thick and strong; 

His head well arm'd wi' pointed spears, 
That no one should him wrong. 

The sober autumn entered mild, 
And he grew wan and pale; 

His bending joints and drooping head 
Showed he began to fail. 

His colour sickened more and more. 

He faded into age; 
And then his enemies began 

To show their deadly rage. 

They took a weapon long and sharp, 

And cut him by the knee. 
Then tied him fast upon a cart. 

Like a rogue for forgery. 

They laid him down upon his back. 
And cudgelled him full sore; 

They hung him up before the storm, 
And turn'd him o'er and o'er. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 85 

They filled up then a darksome pit 

With water to the brim, 
And heaved in poor John Barleycorn, 

To let him sink or swim. 

They laid him out upon the floor, 

To work him further woe ; 
And still as signs of life appeared, 

They tossed him to and fro. 

They wasted o'er a scorching flame 

The marrow of his bones; 
But a miller used him worst of all — 

He crushed him 'tween two stones. 

And they have taken his very heart's blood, 

And drunk it round and round ; 
And still the more and more they drank. 

Their joy did more abound. 

Robert Burns. 



A Life on the Ocean 'Wave. 

"A Life on the Ocean Wave," by Epes Sargent (1813-80), gives 
the swing and motion of the water of the great ocean. Children 
remember it almost unconsciously after hearing it read several times. 

A LIFE on the ocean wave, 

A home on the rolling deep, 
Where the scattered waters rave, 

And the winds their revels keep ! 
Like an eagle caged, I pine 

On this dull, unchanging shore: 
Oh ! give me the flashing brine, 

The spray and the tempest's roar ! 



86 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Once more on the deck I stand 

Of my own swift-gliding craft : 
Set sail ! farewell to the land ! 

The gale follows fair abaft. 
We shoot through the sparkling foam 

Like an ocean-bird set free ; — ^ 
Like the ocean-bird, our home 

We'll find far out on the sea. 

The land is no longer in view, 

The clouds have begun to frown; 
But with a stout vessel and crew, 

We'll say. Let the storm come down ! 
And the song of our hearts shall be, 

While the winds and the waters rave, 
A home on the rolling sea ! 

A life on the ocean wave ! 

Epes Sargent. 



The Recruit. 

"The Recruit" is a favourite year after year with the boys who hear 
it. It is more than a good-natured piece of fun. It is a sound lesson 
to all voters. It shows the danger of trusting political interests to 
raw emigrants, who easily become office-seekers. Another innocent 
"funny poem" (not included in this volume) is "The Twins," by 
Oliver Wendell Holmes, and yet another is "Lucindy," by Ruth 
McEnery Stuart. Children always enjoy these. The author, Robert 
William Chambers, is living (i 865-1 904). 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
" Bedad, yer a bad 'un ! 
Now turn out yer toes ! 
Yer belt is unhookit, 
Yer cap is on crookit, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 8; 

Ye may not be dhrunk, 
But, be jabers, ye look it ! 
Wan — two ! 
Wan — two ! 
Ye monkey-faced divil, I'll jolly ye through 
Wan — two ! — 
Time ! Mark ! 
Ye march like the aigle in Cintheral Parrk!" 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"A saint it ud sadden 
To dhrill such a mug ! 
Eyes front ! — ye baboon, ye ! — 
Chin up ! — ye gossoon, ye ! 
Ye've jaws like a goat — 
Halt ! ye leather-lipped loon, ye ! 
Wan — ^two ! 
Wan — ^two ! 
Ye whiskered orang-outang, I'll fix you ! 
Wan — two ! — 
Time ! Mark ! 
Ye've eyes like a bat ! — can ye see in the dark ? ' 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
" Yer figger wants padd'n' — 
Sure, man, ye've no shape ! 
Behind ye yer shoulders 
Stick out like two boulders ; 
Yer shins is as thin 
As a pair of pen-holders ! 

Wan — two ! 

Wan — two ! 



88 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Yer belly belongs on yer back, ye Jew ! 

Wan — two ! — 

Time ! Mark ! 
I'm dhry as a dog — I can't shpake but I bark ! " 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"Me heart it ud gladden 
To blacken yer eye. 
Ye 're gettin' too bold, ye 
Compel me to scold ye, — 
'Tis halt ! that I say,— 
Will ye heed what I told ye ? 
Wan — ^two ! 
Wan — two ! 
Be jabers, I'm dhryer than Brian Bom 
Wan — two ! — 
Time ! Mark ! 
What 'swur-ruk for chickens is sport for the lark ! " 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"I'll not stay a-gadd'n 
Wid dagoes like you ! 
I'll travel no farther, 
I'm dyin' for — wather; — 
Come on, if ye like, — 
Can ye loan me a quather ? T] 

Ya-as, you, It 

What, — two? k 

And ye'll pay the potheen ? Ye're a daisy ! 

Whurroo ! . An 

You'll do ! 
Whist ! Mark ! 
The Rigiment's flatthered to own ye, me spark ! " 
Robert William Chambers. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 89 



Abou Ben Adhem. 

"Abou Ben Adhem" has won its way to the popular heart because 
the "Brotherhood of Man" is the motto of this age. (1784-1859.) 

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
And saw within the moonlight in his room, 
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, 
An angel writing in a book of gold. 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold; 
And to the presence in the room he said, 
" What writest thou ? " The vision raised its head, 
And, with a look made of all sweet accord. 
Answered, **The names of those who love the 
Lord." 

"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," 
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, 
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night 

It came again, with a great wakening light. 

And showed the names whom love of God had 

blessed ; 
And, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 

Leigh Hunt. 



go Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Farm-Yard Song. 

"A Farm-Yard Song" was popular years ago with Burbank, the 
great reader. How the boys and girls loved it ! The author, J. T. 
Trowbridge (1827-still living), "is a boy-hearted man," says John Btir- 
roughs. The poem is just as popular as it ever was. 

Over the hill the farm-boy goes, 
His shadow lengthens along the land, 
A giant staff in a giant hand; 
In the poplar-tree, above the spring, 
The katydid begins to sing ; 

The early dews are falling; — 
Into the stone-heap darts the mink; 
The swallows skim the river's brink; 
And home to the woodland fly the crows, 
When over the hill the farm-boy goes, 
Cheerily calling, — 

"Co', boss ! CO', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !" 
Farther, farther over the hill. 
Faintly calling, calling still, — 

"Co', boss! co', boss! co' ! co'!" 

Into the yard the farmer goes. 

With grateful heart, at the close of day; 

Harness and chain are hung away; 

In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plow; 

The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow, 

The cooling dews are falling; — 
The friendly sheep his welcome bleat. 
The pigs come grunting to his feet, 
The whinnying mare her master knows, 
When into the yard the farmer goes. 

His cattle calling, — 
"Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !'* 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 91 

While still the cow-boy, far away, 

Goes seeking those that have gone astray, — 



oes seeking those that have gor 
*'Co', boss! co', boss! co' ! co' ! 



Now to her task the milkmaid goes. 

The cattle come crowding through the gate, 

Lowing, pushing, little and great ; 

About the trough, by the farm -yard pump, 

The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump. 

While the pleasant dews are falling; — 
The new-milch heifer is quick and shy. 
But the old cow waits with tranquil eye; 
And the white stream into the bright pail flows. 
When to her task the milkmaid goes, 
Soothingly calling, — 

"So, boss ! so, boss ! so ! so ! so !" 
The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool, 
And sits and milks in the twilight cool, 

Saying, "So ! so, boss ! so ! so !" 

To supper at last the farmer goes. 
The apples are pared, the paper read, 
The stories are told, then all to bed. 
Without, the crickets' ceaseless song 
Makes shrill the silence all night long; 

The heavy dews are falling. 
The housewife's hand has turned the lock; 
Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock; 
The household sinks to deep repose; 
But still in sleep the farm-boy goes 
Singing, calling, — 
"Co', boss ! co', boss ! co' ! co' ! co' !*' 



92 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams, 
Drums in the pail with the flashing streams, 
Murmuring, "So, boss ! so !" 

J. T. Trowbridge. 



To a Mouse, 

ON TURNING UP HER NEST WITH THE PLOW, 
NOVEMBER, 1785 

"To a Mouse" and " To a Mountain Daisy," by Robert Bums (1759- 
96), are the ineffable touches of tenderness that illumine the sturdy plow- 
man. The contrast between the strong man and the delicate flower or 
creature at his mercy makes tenderness in man a vital point in char- 
acter. 

[The lines "To a Mouse " seem by report to have 
been composed while Burns was actually plowing. 
One of the poet's first editors wrote: "John 
Blane, who had acted as gaudsman to Burns, and 
who lived sixty years afterward, had a distinct 
recollection of the turning up of the mouse. Like 
a thoughtless youth as he was, he ran after the 
creature to kill it, but was checked and recalled 
by his master, who he observed became thereafter 
thoughtful and abstracted. Burns, who treated 
his servants with the familiarity of fellow-labourers, 
soon afterward read the poem to Blane."] 

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie, 
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
Thou needna start awa' sae hasty, 

Wi' bickering brattle ! 
I wad be laith to rin and chase thee, 

Wi' murd'ring pattle ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 93 

I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
Has broken Nature's social union, 
And justifies that ill opinion, 

Which makes thee startle 
At me, thy poor earth-born companion 

And fellow-mortal ! 

I doubtna, whiles, but thou may thieve; 
What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live ! 
A daimen icker in a thrave 

'S a sma' request: 
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, 

And never miss 't ! 

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! 
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin' ! 
And naething now to big a new ane 

O' foggage green, 
And bleak December's winds ensuin*, 
. Baith snell and keen ! 

Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste, 
And weary winter comin' fast, 
And cozie here, beneath the blast. 

Thou thought to dwell. 
Till, crash ! the cruel coulter passed 

Out through thy cell. 

That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble 
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble ! 
Now thou's turned out for a' thy trouble. 

But house or hald, 
To thole the winter's sleety dribble, 

And cranreuch cauld ! 



94 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
In proving foresight may be vain : 
The best-laid schemes o' mice and men 

Gang aft a-gley, 
And lea'e us naught but grief and pain, 

For promised joy. 

Still thou art blest, compared wi' me ! 
The present only toucheth thee: 
But, och ! I backward cast my e'e 

On prospects drear ! 
And forward, though I canna see, 

I guess and fear. 

Robert Burns. 



To a Mountain Daisy, 

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOW IN 
APRIL, 1786 

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, 
Thou 's met me in an evil hour; 
For I maun crush amang the stoure 

Thy slender stem: 
To spare thee now is past my power, 

Thou bonny gem. 

Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, 
The bonny lark, companion meet, 
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet, 

Wi' speckled breast. 
When upward -springing, blithe, to greet 

The purpling east ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 95 

Cauld blew the bitter biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birth; 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 

Amid the storm, 
Scarce reared above the parent earth 

Thy tender form. 

The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, 
High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield, 
But thou, beneath the random bield 

O' clod or stane. 
Adorns the histie stibble-field, 

Unseen, alane. 

There, in thy scanty mantle clad. 
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, 
Thou lifts thy unassuming head 

In humble guise; 
But now the share uptears thy bed, 

And low thou lies ! 

Such is the fate of artless maid. 
Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! 
By love's simplicity betrayed, 

And guileless trust, 
Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid 

Low i' the dust. • 

Such is the fate of simple bard. 

On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd ! 

Unskilful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore, 
Till billows i-age, and gales blow hard, 

And whelm him o'er ! 



96 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Such fate to suffering worth is given, 
Who long with wants and woes has striven, 
By human pride or cunning driven 

To misery's brink, 
Till wrenched of every stay but Heaven, 

He, ruined, sink ! 

Even thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, 
That fate is thine — no distant date; 
Stern Ruin's plowshare drives, elate. 

Full on thy bloom, 
Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight 

Shall be thy doom. 

Robert Burns. 



Barbara Frietchie, 

" Barbara Frietchie " will be beloved of all times because she was an 
old woman (not necessarily an old lady) worthy of her years. Old age 
is honourable if it carries a head that has a halo. (1807-92.) 

Up from the meadows rich with corn. 
Clear in the cool September morn, 

The clustered spires of Frederick stand 
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. 

Round about them orchards sweep, 
Apple and peach tree fruited deep, 

Fair as the garden of the Lord 

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, 

On that pleasant mom of the early fall 

When Lee marched over the mountain-wall, — 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 97 

Over the mountains winding down, 
Horse and foot, into Frederick town. 

Forty flags with their silver stars, 
Forty flags with their crimson bars, 

Flapped in the morning wind: the sun 
Of noon looked down, and saw not one. 

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then. 
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; 

Bravest of all in Frederick town. 

She took up the flag the men hauled down; 

In her attic window the staff she set, 
To show that one heart was loyal yet. 

Up the street came the rebel tread, 
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. 

Under his slouched hat left and right 
He glanced : the old flag met his sight. 

"Halt!" — the dust-brown ranks stood fast. 
" Fire ! " — out blazed the rifle-blast. 

It shivered the window, pane and sash; 
It rent the banner with seam and gash. 

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff 
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. 



98 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

She leaned far out on the window-sill, 
And shook it forth with a royal will. 

"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 
But spare your country's flag," she said. 

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, 
Over the face of the leader came ; 

The nobler nature within him stirred 
To life at that woman's deed and word: 

"Who touches a hair of yon gray head 
Dies like a dog ! March on ! " he said. 

All day long through Frederick street 
Sounded the tread of marching feet: 

All day long that free flag tost 
Over the heads of the rebel host. 

Ever its torn folds rose and fell 

On the loyal winds that loved it well; 

And through the hill-gaps sunset light 
Shone over it with a warm good-night, 

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, 

And the rebel rides on his raids no more. 

Honour to her ! and let a tear 

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 99 

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave ! 

Peace and order and beauty draw 
Round thy symbol of light and law; 

And ever the stars above look down 
On thy stars below in Frederick town ! 

John G. Whittier. 



I 




PART III 



PART III 

Lochinvar. 

"Lochinvar" and "Lord Ullin's Daughter," the first by Scott (177 1- 
1832) and the second by Campbell (i 777-1844), are companions in 
sentiment and equally popular with boys who love to win anything 
desirable by heroic effort. 

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west. 
Through all the wide Border his steed was the 

best, 
And save his good broadsword he weapons had 

none; 
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for 

stone. 
He swam the Eske River where ford there was 

none; 
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate 
The bride had consented, the gallant came late: 
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 

Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and 

all: 
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his 

sword 
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a 

word) , 

103 



104 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ? " 

" I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ; — 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its 

tide — 
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine. 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far. 
That would gladly be bride to the young 

Lochinvar." 

The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up ; 
He quaffed of the wine, and he threw down the 

cup. 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to 

sigh, 
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand ere her mother could 

bar, — 
** Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 
That never a hall such a galliard did grace; 
While her mother did fret, and her father did 

fume, 
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet 

and plume, 
And the bridemaidens whispered, "'Twere better 

by far 
To have matched our fair cousin with young 

Lochinvar." 



Poems That Every Child Should Know lo^ 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
When they reached the hall door, and the charger 

stood near; 
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung. 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and 

scaur ; 
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth 

young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby 

clan ; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and 

they ran : 
There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, 
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war. 
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? 

Sir Walter Scott. 



Lord UUin's Daughter. 

A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, 
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry! 

And I'll give thee a silver pound. 
To row us o'er the ferry." 

"Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, 
This dark and stormy water.?" 

"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, 
And this Lord Ullin's daughter. 



io6 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"And fast before her father's men 
Three days we've fled together, 

For should he find us in the glen, 
My blood would stain the heather. 

"His horsemen hard behind us ride; 

Should they our steps discover. 
Then who will cheer my bonny bride 

When they have slain her lover ? " 

Outspoke the hardy Highland wight, 
"I'll go, my chief — I'm ready; 

It is not for your silver bright. 
But for your winsome lady: 

"And by my word ! the bonny bird 

In danger shall not tarry; 
So though the waves are raging white, 

I'll row you o'er the ferry." 

By this the storm grew loud apace, 
The water- wraith was shrieking; 

And in the scowl of heaven each face 
Grew dark as they were speaking. 

But still as wilder blew the wind, 
And as the night grew drearer, 

Adov/n the glen rode armed men, 
Their trampling sounded nearer. 

" O haste thee, haste 1" the lady cries, 

"Though tempests round us gather; 
I'll meet the raging of the skies, 

But not an angry father." 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 107 

The boat has left a stormy land, 

A stormy sea before her, — 
When, oh ! too strong for human hand, 

The tempest gather'd o'er her. 

And still they row'd amid the roar 

Of waters fast prevailing: 
Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore, 

His wrath was changed to wailing. 

For sore dismay 'd, through storm and shade, 

His child he did discover: — 
One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, 

And one was round her lover. 

" Come back ! come back ! " he cried in grief, 

"Across this stormy water: 
And I'll forgive your Highland chief, 

My daughter! — oh my daughter!" 

'Twas vain the loud waves lashed the shore, 

Return or aid preventing; — 
The waters wild went o'er his child, — 

And he was left lamenting, 

Thomas Campbell. 



The Charge of the Light Brigade. 

"The Charge of the Light Brigade" (1809-92) unlike " Casabianca" 
shows obedience under stem necessity. Obedience is the salvation 
of any army. John Burroughs says: " I never hear that poem but 
what it thrills me through and through." 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward, 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 



io8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"Forward, the Light Brigade! 
Charge for the guns !" he said: 
Into the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 



"Forward, the Light Brigade !" 
Was there a man dismay'd ? 
Not tho' the soldier knew 

Some one had blunder'd: 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why. 
Theirs but to do and die: 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them. 
Cannon in front of them 

VoUey'd and thunder'd; 
Storm'd at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well, 
Into the jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of Hell 

Rode the six hundred. 

Flash'd all their sabers bare, 
Flash'd as they tum'd in air 
Sab 'ring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 
All the world wonder'd : 
Plunged in the battery-smoke 
Right thro' the line they broke; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 109 

Cossack and Russian 
Reel'd from the saber-stroke 

Shatter 'd and sunder 'd. 
Then they rode back, but not 

Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them 

Volleyed and thundered: 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 
They that had fought so well 
Came through the jaws of death 
Back from the mouth of hell. 
All that was left of them — 

Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade ? 
Oh, the wild charge they made ! 

All the world wondered. 
Honour the charge they made ! 
Honour the Light Brigade — 

Noble six hundred ! 

Alfred Tennyson. 



no Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Tournament. 

There are several of Sidney Lanier's (1842-81) poems that children 
love to learn. "Tampa Robins," "The Tournament" (Joust I.), 
"Barnacles," "The Song of the Chattahoochee," and "The First Steam- 
boat Up the Alabama" are among them. At our "poetry contests" 
the children have plainly demonstrated that this great poet has reached 
his hand down to the youngest. The time will doubtless come when 
it' will be a part of education to be acquainted with Lanier, as it is now 
to be acquainted with Longfellow or Tennyson. 



Bright shone the lists, blue bent the skies, 
And the knights still hurried amain 

To the tournament under the ladies' eyes, 
Where the j ousters were Heart and Brain. 

II. 

Flourished the trumpets, entered Heart, 

A youth in crimson and gold; 
Flourished again; Brain stood apart, 

Steel-armoured, dark and cold. 

III. 

Heart's palfrey caracoled gaily round, 

Heart tra-li-ra'd merrily; 
But Brain sat still, with never a sound, 

So cynical-calm was he. 

IV. 

Heart's helmet-crest bore favours three 
From his lady's white hand caught; 

While Brain wore a plumeless casque; not he 
Or favour gave or sought. 






1 

I 
I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 1 1 1 



V. 

The trumpet blew; Heart shot a glance 

To catch his lady's eye, 
But Brian gazed straight ahead, his lance 

To aim more faithfully. 

VI. 

They charged, they struck; both fell, both bled 

Brain rose again, ungloved; 
Heart, dying, smiled and faintly said, 

"My love to my beloved." 

Sidney Lanier. 



The Wind and the Moon. 

Little Laddie, do you remember learning "The Wind and the Moon" ? 
You were eight or nine years old, and you shut your eyes and puffed 
out your cheeks when you came to the line "He blew and He blew." 
The saucy wind made a great racket and the calm moon never noticed 
it. That gave you a great deal of pleasure, didn't it ? We did not care 
much for the noisy, conceited wind. (1824-.) 

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out; 

You stare 

In the air 

Like a ghost in a chair, 
Always looking what I am about — 
I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out." 

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. 

So, deep 

On a heap 

Of clouds to sleep, 
Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon. 
Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon." 



I 



112 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

He turned in his bed ; she was there again ! 

On high 

In the sky, 

With her one ghost eye, 
The Moon shone white and alive and plain. 
Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again." 

The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim. 

"With my sledge. 

And my wedge, 

I have knocked off her edge ! 
If only I blow right fierce and grim. 
The creature will soon be dimmer than dim." 

He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. 

"One puff 

More's enough 

To blow her to snuff ! 
One good puff more where the last was bred, 
And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go the thread." 

He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone. 

In the air 

Nowhere 

Was a moonbeam bare; 
Far off and harmless the shy stars shone — 
Sure and certain the Moon was gone ! 

The Wind he took to his revels once more; 

On down, 

In town, 

Like a merry-mad clown. 
He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar — 
"What's that ? " The glimmering thread once more ! 



^ 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 113 

He flew in a rage — he danced and blew; 

But in vain 

Was the pain 

Of his bursting brain ; 
For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew, 
The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew. 

Slowly she grew — till she filled the night, 

And shone 

On her throne 

In the sky alone, 
A matchless, wonderful silvery light, 
Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night. 

Said the Wind: ''What a marvel of power am I ! 

With my breath. 

Good faith ! 

I blew her to death — 
First blew her away right out of the sky — 
Then blew her in ; what strength have I ! " 

But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair; 

For high 

In the sky, 

With her one white eye. 
Motionless, miles above the air. 
She had never heard the great Wind blare. 

George Macdonald. 



114 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Jesus the Carpenter. 

"Jesus the Carpenter" — "same trade as me" — strikes a high note in 
favour of honest toil. (1848-.) 

"Isn't this Joseph's son?" — ay, it is He; 
Joseph the carpenter — same trade as me: — 
I thought as I'd find it — I knew it was here — 
But my sight's getting queer. 

I don't know right where as His shed must ha' 

stood — 
But often, as I've been a-planing my wood, 
I've took off my hat, just with thinking of He 
At the same work as me. 

He warn't that set up that He couldn't stoop down 
And work in the country for folks in the town; 
And I'll warrant He felt a bit pride, like I've done. 
At a good job begun. 

The parson he knows that I'll not make too free. 
But on Sunday I feels as pleased as can be, 
When I wears my clean smock, and sits in a pew, 
And has taught a few. 

I think of as how not the parson hissen, 
As is teacher and father and shepherd o' men, 
Not he knows as much of the Lord in that shed, 
Where He earned His ow^n bread. 

And when I goes home to my missus, says she, 
"Are ye wanting your key?" 
For she knows my queer ways, and my love for 
the shed 
(We've been forty years wed). 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 115 

So I comes right away by mysen, with the book, 
And I turns the old pages and has a good look 
For the text as I've found, as tells me as He 
Were the same trade as me. 

Why don't I mark it ? Ah, many say so, 
But I think I'd as lief, with your leaves, let it go: 
It do seem that nice when I fall on it sudden — 
Unexpected, you know ! 

Catherine C. Liddell. 



Letty's Globe. 

"Letty's Globe'' gives us the picture of a little golden-haired girl who 
covers all Europe with her dainty hands and tresses while giving a kiss 
to England, her own dear native land. (1808-79.) 

When Letty had scarce pass'd her third glad year. 
And her young, artless words began to flow, 
One day we gave the child a colour'd sphere 
Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know, 
By tint and outline, all its sea and land. 
She patted all the world; old empires peep'd 
Between her baby fingers ; her soft hand 
Was welcome at all frontiers. How she leap'd, 
And laugh'd and prattled in her world-wide bliss ! 
But when we turn'd her sweet unlearned eye 
On our own isle, she rais'd a joyous cry, 
"Oh ! yes, I see it ! Letty's home is there !" 
And, while she hid all England with a kiss. 
Bright over Europe fell her golden hair ! 

Charles Tennyson Turner. 



1 1 6 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



A Dream. 

Once a dream did wave a shade 
O'er my angel-guarded bed, 
That an emmet lost its way 
When on grass methought I lay. 

Troubled, 'wildered, and forlorn, 
Dark, benighted, travel-worn, 
Over many a tangled spray. 
All heart -broke, I heard her say: 

"Oh, my children ! do they cry? 
Do they hear their father sigh ? 
Now they look abroad to see, 
Now return and weep for me." 

Pitying, I dropped a tear; 
But I saw a glow-worm near, 
Who replied, "What wailing wight 
Calls the watchman of the night ? 

"I am set to light the ground 
While the beetle goes his round. 
Follow now the beetle's hum — 
Little wanderer, hie thee home !" 

William Blake. 



» 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 117 

Heaven Is Not Reached at a Single Bound. 

(a fragment.) 

"We build the ladder by which we cHmb" is a line worthy of any 
poet. J. G. Holland (1819-81) has immortalised himself in this line, at 
least. 

Heaven is not reached, at a single bound, 
But we build the ladder by which we rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 

And we mount to its summit round by round. 

I count this thing to be grandly true: 

That a noble deed is a step toward God, — 
Lifting the soul from the common clod 

To a purer air and a broader view. 

J. G. Holland. 

The Battle of Blenheim. 

Have you been to Woodstock, near Oxford, England ? If so, you have 
seen the palace of the Duke of Marlborough, who won the battle of 
Blenheim. The main point of the poem is the doubtful honour in 
killing in otir great wars. Southey, the poet, lived from 1774 to 1843. 

It was a summer's evening, 

Old Kaspar's work was done, 
And he before his cottage door 

Was sitting in the sun; 
And by him sported on the green 
His little grandchild Wilhelmine. 

She saw her brother Peterkin 
Roll something large and round, 

Which he, beside the rivulet. 
In playing there, had found. 



ii8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

He came to ask what he had found, 

That was so large, and smooth, and round. 

Old Kaspar took it from the boy, 

Who stood expectant by; 
And then the old man shook his head, 

And, with a natural sigh, 
*"Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, 
"Who fell in the great victory ! 

"I find them in the garden, 
For there's many hereabout; 

And often when I go to plow, 
The plowshare turns them out; 

For many thousand men," said he, 

"Were slain in that great victory !" 

"Now tell us what 'twas all about," 

Young Peterkin he cries; 
And little Wilhelmine looks up 

With wonder- waiting eyes; 
' ' Now tell us all about the war. 
And what they kill each other for." 

"It was the English," Kaspar cried, 
' ' Who put the French to rout ; 

But what they killed each other for 
I could not well make out. 

But everybody said," quoth he, 

* ' That 'twas a famous victory ! 

"My father lived at Blenheim then, 
Yon little stream hard by : 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 119 

They burned his dwelling to the ground, 

And he was forced to fly; 
So with his wife and child he fled, 
Nor had he where to rest his head. 

"With fire and sword the country round 

Was wasted far and wide ; 
And many a childing mother then 

And new-born baby died. 
But things like that, you know, must be 
At every famous victory. 

"They say it was a shocking sight 

After the field was won ; 
For many thousand bodies here 

Lay rotting in the sun. 
But things like that, you know, must be 
After a famous victory. 

"Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won. 

And our good Prince Eugene." 
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing !" 

Said little Wilhelmine. 
"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, 
" It was a famous victory ! 

"And everybody praised the Duke 

Who this great fight did win." 
"But what good came of it at last?" 

Quoth little Peterkin. 
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he, 
"But 'twas a famous victory." 

Robert Southey. 



120 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Fidelity. 

"Fidelity," by William Wordsworth (1770-1850), is placed here out 
of respect to a boy of eleven years who liked the poem well enough to 
recite it frequently. The scene is laid on Helvellyn, to me the most 
impressive mountain of the Lake District of England. Wordsworth 
is a part of this country. I once heard John Burrotighs say: "I went to 
the Lake District to see what kind of a country it could be that would 
produce a Wordsworth." 

A BARKING sound the Shepherd hears, 
A cry as of a dog or fox ; 
He halts — and searches with his eyes 
Among the scattered rocks; 
And now at distance can discern 
A stirring in a brake of fern ; 
And instantly a Dog is seen, 
Glancing through that covert green. 

The Dog is not of mountain breed; 

Its motions, too, are wild and shy; 

With something, as the Shepherd thinks, 

Unusual in its cry: 

Nor is there any one in sight 

All round, in hollow or on height; 

Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear; 

What is the Creature doing here ? 

It was a cove, a huge recess. 

That keeps, till June, December's snow, 

A lofty precipice in front, 

A silent tarn below ! 

Far in the bosom of Helvellyn, 

Remote from public road or dwelling, 

Pathway, or cultivated land; 

From trace of human foot or hand. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 121 

There sometimes doth a leaping fish 
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer ; 
The crags repeat the raven's croak, 
In symphony austere; 
Thither the rainbow comes — the cloud — 
And mists that spread the flying shroud ; 
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast, 
That, if it could, would hurry past, 
But that enormous barrier binds it fast. 

Not free from boding thoughts, a while 
The Shepherd stood : then makes his way 
Toward the Dog, o'er rocks and stones, 
As quickly as he may; 
Nor far had gone, before he found 
A human skeleton on the ground ; 
The appalled discoverer with a sigh 
Looks round, to learn the history. 

From those abrupt and perilous rocks 

The Man had fallen, that place of fear ! 

At length upon the Shepherd's mind 

It breaks, and all is clear: 

He instantly recalled the name. 

And who he was, and whence he came; 

Remembered, too, the very day 

On which the traveller passed this way. 

But hear a wonder, for whose sake 
This lamentable tale I tell ! 
A lasting monument of words 
This wonder merits well. 



122 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The Dog, which still was hovering nigh, 

Repeating the same timid cry, 

This Dog had been through three months' 

space 
A dweller in that savage place. 

Yes, proof was plain that, since the day 

When this ill-fated traveller died, 

The Dog had watched about the spot, 

Or by his master's side : 

How nourished here through such long 

time 
He knows, who gave that love sublime ; 
And gave that strength of feeling, great 
Above all human estimate. 

William Wordsworth. 



The Chambered Nautilus. 

People are more and more coming to recognise the fact that each 
individual soul has a right to its own stages of development. "The 
Chambered Nautilus" is for that reason beloved of the masses. It is 
one of the grandest poems ever written. "Build thee more stately- 
mansions, O my souli" This line alone would make the poem im- 
mortal. (1809-94.) 

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 
Sailed the unshadowed main, — 
The venturous bark that flings 

On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 

In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, 
And coral reefs lie bare, 

Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their stream- 
ing hair. | 






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Poems That Every Child Should Know 123 

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl ; 

Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! 

And every chambered cell, 
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 

Before thee lies revealed, — 
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed ! 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 

That spread his lustrous coil; 

Still, as the spiral grew. 
He left the past year's dwelling for the new. 
Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 

Built up its idle door. 
Stretched in his last -found home, and knew the 
old no more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 

Child of the wandering sea, 

Cast from her lap, forlorn ! 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is bom 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 

While on mine ear it rings. 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice 
that sings: — 

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, 

As the swift seasons roll ! 

Leave thy low-vaulted past ! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 

Till thou at length art free. 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea ! 
Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



124 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Crossing the Bar. 

Tennyson's (1809-92) "Crossing the Bar" is one of the noblest 
death-songs ever written, I include it in this volume out of respect 
to a young Philadelphia publisher who recited it one stormy night 
before the passengers of a ship when I was crossing the Atlantic, and 
also because so many young people have the good taste to love it. It 
has been said that next to Browning's "Prospice" it is the greatest 
death-song ever written. 

Sunset and evening star, 

And one clear call for me ! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar, 

When I put out to sea, 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 

Too full for sound and foam, 
When that which drew from out the boundless deep 

Turns again home. 

Twilight and evening bell. 

And after that the dark ! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell, 

When I embark; 

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place 

The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have cross'd the bar. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



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Poems That Every Child Should Know 125 



The Overland-Mail. 

"The Overland-Mail" is a most desirable poem for children to learn. 
When one boy learns it the others want to follow. It takes as a hero 
the man who gives common service — the one who does not lead or com- 
mand, but follows the line of duty. (1865-.) 

In the name of the Empress of India, make way, 
O Lords of the Jungle wherever you roam, 
The woods are astir at the close of the day — 
We exiles are waiting for letters from Home — 
Let the robber retreat; let the tiger turn tail, 
In the name of the Empress the Overland-Mail ! 

With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in, 
He turns to the foot-path that leads up the hill — 
The bags on his back, and a cloth round his chin, 
And, tucked in his belt, the Post-Office bill; — 
"Despatched on this date, as received by the rail. 
Per runner, two bags of the Overland-Mail." 

Is the torrent in spate ? He must ford it or swim. 
Has the rain wrecked the road? He must climb 

by the cliff. 
Does the tempest cry "Halt " ? What are tempests 

to him? 
The service admits not a "but" or an "if"; 
While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear 

without fail. 
In the name of the Empress the Overland-Mail. 

From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir, 
From level to upland, from upland to crest, 



126 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock-ridge to 
spur, 

Fly the soft-sandalled feet, strains the brawny- 
brown chest. 

From rail to ravine — to the peak from the vale — ■ 

Up, up throvigh the night goes the Overland-Mail. 

There's a speck on the hillside, a dot on the road — 
A jingle of bells on the foot-path below — 
There's a scuffle above in the monkeys' abode — 
The world is awake, and the clouds are aglow — 
For the great Sun himself must attend to the 

trail ; — 
In the name of the Empress the Overland-Mail. 

RuDYARD Kipling. 

Gathering Song of Donald Dhu. 

Jon, do you remember when you. used to spout "Pibroch of Donald! 
Dhu"? I think you were ten years old. Sir Walter Scott's men allj 
have a genius for standing up to their guns, and boys gather up thej 
man's genius when reciting his verse, (i 771-1832.) 

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, 

Pibroch of Donuil, 
Wake thy wild voice anew. 

Summon Clan Conuil. 
Come away, come away, 

Hark to the summons ! 
Come in your war-array, 

Gentles and commons. 

Come from deep glen, and 
From mountain so rocky, 

The war-pipe and pennon 
Are at Inverlochy. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 127 

Come every hill-plaid, and 
True heart that wears one, 

Come every steel blade, and 
Strong hand that bears one. 

Leave untended the herd, 

The flock without shelter; 
Leave the corpse uninterr'd, 

The bride at the altar; 
Leave the deer, leave the steer, 

Leave nets and barges: 
Come with your fighting gear, 

Broadswords and targes. 

Come as the winds come, when 

Forests are rended ; 
Come as the waves come, when 

Navies are stranded: 
Faster come, faster come, 

Faster and faster, 
Chief, vassal, page, and groom, 

Tenant and master. 

Fast they come, fast they come; 

See how they gather ! 
Wide waves the eagle plume 

Blended with heather, 
Cast your plaids, draw your blades. 

Forward each man set ! 
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu 

Knell for the onset ! 

Sir Walter Scott. 



128 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Marco Bozzaris. 

"Marco Bozzaris," by Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867). was in my 
old school-reader. Boys and girls liked it then and they Hke it now. 
This is another of the poems that was not born to die. 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in suppHance bent, 

Should tremble at his power : 
In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring: 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king; 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart and hand. 
There had the Persian's thousands stood, 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood 

On old Plataea's day; 
And now there breathed that haunted air 
The sons of sires who conquered there. 
With arm to strike and soul to dare, 

As quick, as far as they. 

An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, 
"To arms ! thev come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! " j 



i 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 129 

He woke — to die midst flame, and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, 

And death-shots falHng thick and fast 
As hghtnings from the mountain-cloud; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band: 
"Strike — till the last armed foe expires; 
Strike — for your altars and your fires; 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires; 

God — and your native land !" 

They fought — ^like brave men, long and well; 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain, 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won ; 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose. 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

Come to the bridal-chamber, Death ! 

Come to the mother's, when she feels, 
For the first time, her first-born's breath; 

Come when the blessed seals 
That close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke; 
Come in consumption's ghastly form. 
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm; 
Come when the heart beats high and warm 

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine; 
And thou are terrible — the tear, 



130 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear 
Of agon}^ are thine. 

But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free. 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 
Come, when his task of fame is v/rought — 
Come, with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought — 

Com.e in her crowning hour — and then 
Thy sunken eye's unearthly light 
To him is welcome as the sight 

Of sky and stars to prisoned men; 
Thy grasp is welcome as the hand 
Of brother in a foreign land ; 
Thy summons welcome as the cry 
That told the Indian isles were nigh 

To the world-seeking Genoese, 
When the land wind, from woods of palm, 
And orange-groves, and fields of balm, 

Blew o'er the Haytian seas. 

Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 

Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own proud clime. 
She wore no funeral-weeds for thee, 

Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume 
Like torn branch from death's leafless tree 
In sorrow's pomp and pageantry. 

The heartless luxury of the tomb ; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 131 

But she remembers thee as one 
Long loved and for a season gone ; 
For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, 
Her marble wrought, her music breathed; 
For thee she rings the birthday bells; 
Of thee her babe's first lisping tells; 
For thine her evening prayer is said 
At palace-couch and cottage-bed ; 
Her soldier, closing with the foe. 
Gives for thy sake a deadlier blow ; 
His plighted maiden, when she fears 
For him the joy of her young years. 
Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears; 

And she, the mother of thy boys. 
Though in her eye and faded cheek 
Is read the grief she will not speak, 

The memory of her buried joys. 
And even she who gave thee birth. 
Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth. 

Talk of thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's: 
One of the few, the immortal names, 

That were not born to die. 

Fitz-Greene Halleck. 

The Death of Napoleon. 

"The Death of Napoleon," by Isaac McClellan (1806-99), was yet 
another of the good old reader songs taught us by a teacher of good 
taste. We love those teachers more the older we grow. 

Wild was the night, yet a wilder night 

Hung round the soldier's pillow; 
In his bosom there waged a fiercer fight 

Than the fight on the wrathful billow. 



132 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

A few fond mourners were kneeling by, 
The few that his stern heart cherished; 

They knew, by his glazed and unearthly eye, 
That life had nearly perished. 

They knew by his awful and kingly look, 

By the order hastily spoken, 
That he dreamed of days when the nations shook, 

And the nations' hosts were broken. 

He dreamed that the Frenchman's sword still slew, 
And triumphed the Frenchman's eagle, 

And the struggling Austrian fled anew, 
Like the hare before the beagle. 

The bearded Russian he scourged again, 

The Prussian's camp was routed, 
And again on the hills of haughty Spain 

His mighty armies shouted. 

Over Egypt's sands, over Alpine snows. 
At the pyramids, at the mountain, 

Where the wave of the lordly Danube flows, 
And by the Italian fountain. 

On the snowy cliffs where mountain streams 

Dash by the Switzer's dwelling, 
He led again, in his dying dreams. 

His hosts, the proud earth quelling. 

Again Marengo's field was won. 

And Jena's bloody battle; 
Again the world was overrun. 

Made pale at his cannon's rattle. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 133 

He died at the close of that darksome day, 

A day that shall live in story ; 
In the rocky land they placed his clay, 

"And left him alone with his glory." 

Isaac McClellan. 

How Sleep the Brave. 

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
By all their country's wishes blest ! 
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, 
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

S By fairy hands their knell is rung, 

By forms unseen their dirge is sung: 
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray. 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay; 
And Freedom shall a while repair 
To dwell a weeping hermit there ! 

William Collins. 

The Flag Goes By. 

" The Flag Goes By" is included out of regard to a boy of eleven years 
who pleased me by his great appreciation of it. It teaches the lesson 
of reverence to our great national symbol. It is published by per- 
mission of the author, Henry Holcomb Bennett, of Ohio. (1863-.) 

Hats off! 
Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, 
A flash of colour beneath the sky : 

Hats off ! 
The flag is passing by ! 



134 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Blue and crimson and white it shines 
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. 

Hats off ! 
The colours before us fly; 
But more than the flag is passing by. 

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, 
Fought to make and to save the State : 
Weary marches and sinking ships; 
Cheers of victory on dying lips; 

Days of plent}^ and years of peace; 
March oi a strong land's swift increase; 
Equal justice, right, and law, 
Stately honour and reverend awe; 

Sign of a nation, great and strong 
Toward her people from foreign wrong: 
Pride and glory and honour, — all 
Live in the colours to stand or fall. 

Hats off! 
Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; 
And loyal hearts are beating high: 

Hats off! 
The flag is passing by ! 

Henry Holcomb Bennett. 



Hohenlinden. 

On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay th' untrodden snow: 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 135 

But Linden saw another sight, 
When the drum beat, at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to Hght 
The darkness of her scenery. 

By torch and trumpet fast array'd 
Each horseman drew his battle-blade. 
And furious every charger neigh 'd 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

Then shook the hills with thunder riven ; 
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven, 
And louder than the bolts of Heaven, 
Far flash'd the red artillery. 

But redder yet that light shall glow 
On Linden's hills of stained snow; 
And bloodier yet the torrent flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun. 
Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, 
Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. 

The combat deepens. On, ye brave 
Who rush to glory or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 

Few, few shall part, where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding-sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 
Shall be a soldier's sepulcher. 

Thomas Campbell. 



136 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



My Old Kentucky Home. 

The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home; 

'Tis summer, the darkeys are gay; 
The corn-top's ripe, and the meadow's in the bloom, 

While the birds make music all the day. 
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, 

All merry, all happy and bright; 
By-'n'-by hard times comes a-knocking at the 
door : — 

Then my old Kentucky home, good-night ! 

Weep no more, my lady, 
O, weep no more to-day ! 
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, 
For the old Kentucky home, far away. 

They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon, 

On the meadow, the hill, and the shore; 
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon, 

On the bench by the old cabin door. 
The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart. 

With sorrow, where all was delight; 
The time has come when the darkeys have to 
part : — 

Then my old Kentucky home, good-night ! 



The head must bow, and the back will have to bend, 

Wherever the darkey may go; 
A few more days, and the trouble all will end. 

In the field where the sugar-canes grow. 



poems That Every Child Should Know 137 

A few more days for to tote the weary load, — 

No matter, 'twill never be light; 
A few more days till we totter on the road : — 

Then my old Kentucky home, good-night ! 

Weep no more, my lady, 
O, weep no more to-day ! 
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, 
For the old Kentucky home, far away. 

Stephen Collins Foster. 



Old Folks at Home. 

Way down upon de Swanee Ribber, 

Far, far away, 
Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber, 

Dere's wha de old folks stay. 
All up and down de whole creation 

Sadly I roam, 
Still longing for de old plantation, 

And for de old folks at home. 

All de world am sad and dreary, 

Eberywhere I roam; 
Qh, darkeys, how my heart grows wear}^ 

Far from de old folks at home ! 

All round de little farm I wandered 

When I was young, 
Den many happy days I squandered. 

Many de songs I sung. 



3S Poems That Every Child Should Know 

When I was playing wid my bnidder 

Happy was I; 
Oh, take me to my kind old mudder ! 

Dere let me live and die. 



One little hut among de bushes, 

One dat I love, 
Still sadly to my memory rushes, 

No matter where I rove. 
When will I see de bees a>humming 

All round de comb ? 
When will I hear de banjo tumming, 

Down in my good old home? 

All de world am sad and dreary, 

Ebery where I roam; 
Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary, 

Far from de old folks at home ! 

Stephen Collins Foster. 

The Wreck of the "■ Hesperus.'* 

"The Wreck of the Hesperus," by Longfellow (1807-82), on "Nor- 
man's Woe," off the coast near Cape Ann, is a historic poem as well 
as an imaginative composition. 

It was the schooner Hesperus, 

That sailed the wintry sea; 
And the skipper had taken his little daughter, 

To bear him company. 

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, 

Her cheeks like the dawn of day. 
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds 

That ope in the month of May. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 139 

The skipper he stood beside the helm, 

His pipe was in his mouth, 
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow 

The smoke now west, now south. 

Then up and spake an old sailor, 

Had sailed the Spanish Main, 
"I pray thee put into yonder port, 

For I fear a hurricane. 

**Last night the moon had a golden ring, 

And to-night no moon we see !" 
The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe, 

And a scornful laugh laughed he. 



Colder and louder blew the wind, 

A gale from the northeast, 
The snow fell hissing in the brine. 

And the billows frothed like yeast. 

Down came the storm, and smote amain 

The vessel in its strength; 
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, 

Then leaped her cable's length. 

"Come hither ! come hither ! my little daughter, 

And do not tremble so ; 
For I can weather the roughest gale 

That ever wind did blow." 

He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat 

Against the stinging blast ; 
He cut a rope from a broken spar. 

And bound her to the mast. 



140 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"O father ! I hear the church-bells ring, 

O say, what raay it be ? " 
*"Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!" — 

And he steered for the open sea. 

** O father ! I hear the sound of guns, 

O say, what may it be?" 
"Some ship in distress, that cannot live 

In such an angry sea !" 

'*0 father ! I see a gleaming light, 

O say, what may it be?" 
But the father answered never a word, 

A frozen corpse was he. 

Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, 
With his face turned to the skies. 

The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow 
On his fixed and glassy eyes. 

Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed 

That saved she might be; 
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave 

On the Lake of Galilee. 

And fast through the midnight dark and drear. 
Through the whistling sleet and snow, 

Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept 
Toward the reef of Norman's Woe. 

And ever the fitful gusts between 

A sound came from the land; 
It was the sound of the trampling surf 

On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 141 

The breakers were right beneath her bows, 

She drifted a dreary wreck, 
And a whooping billow swept the crew 

Like icicles from her deck. 

She struck where the white and fleecy waves 

Looked soft as carded wool, 
But the cruel rocks they gored her side 

Like the horns of an angry bull. 

Her rattling shrouds all sheathed in ice, 
With the masts went by the board ; 

Like a vessel of glass she stove and sank, — 
Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! 

At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach 

A fisherman stood aghast, 
To see the form of a maiden fair 

Lashed close to a drifting mast. 

The salt sea was frozen on her breast. 

The salt tears in her eyes; 
And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, 

On the billows fall and rise. 

Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 

In the midnight and the snow ! 
Christ save us all from a death like this, 

On the reef of Norman's Woe ! 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



142 Poems That Every Child Should Know 
Bannockburn. 

ROBERT BRUCE's ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. 

You can look down on the battle-field of Bannockburn from Stirling 
Castle, Scotland, near which stands a magnificent statue of Robert, 
the Bruce. How often have I trodden over the old battle-field ! 
The monument of William Wallace, too, looms up on the Ochil Hills. 
not far away. (1759-96.) 

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or to victorie. 

Now's the day, and now's the hour; 
See the front o' battle lower; 
See approach proud Edward's power — 
Chains and slaverie ! 

Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave? 
Wha sae base as be a slave ? 
Let him turn and flee ! 

Wha for Scotland's King and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
Freeman stand, or freeman fa' ? 
Let him follow me ! 

By oppression's woes and pains ! 
By your sons in servile chains ! 
We will drain our dearest veins. 
But they shall be free ! 

Lay the proud usurpers low ! 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
Liberty's in every blow ! 
Let us do, or die ! 

Robert Burns. 




PART IV. 



PART IV 

The Inchcape Rock. 

The man is wrecked and his ship is sunken before he ever steps on 
board or sees the water if his heart is hard and his estimate of human 
beings low. "The Inchcape Rock" is a thrust at hard-heartedness. 
"What is the use of life?" To bear one another's burdens, to de- 
velop a genius for pulling people through hard places — that's the use 
of life. It is the last resort of a mean mind to crack jokes that wreck 
innocent voyagers on life's sea. (i 774-1843.) 

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, 

The ship was still as she could be; 

Her sails from heaven received no motion; 

Her keel was steady in the ocean. 

Without either sign or sound of their shock, 
The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; 
So little they rose, so little they fell, 
They did not move the Inchcape Bell. 

The Abbot of Aberbrothok 
Had placed that Bell on the Inchcape Rock; 
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, 
And over the waves its warning rung. 

When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell, 
The mariners heard the warning Bell; 
And then they knew the perilous Rock, 
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok. 

The sun in heaven was shining gay; 

All things were joyful on that day; 

The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round, 

And there was joyance in their sound. 

145 



146 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen, 
A dark spot on the ocean green; 
Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck, 
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. 

He felt the cheering power of spring; 
It made him whistle, it made him sing: 
His heart was mirthful to excess, 
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. 

His eye was on the Inchcape float. 

Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat 

And row me to the Inchcape Rock, 

And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok." 

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, 

And to the Inchcape Rock they go ; 

Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, 

And he cut the Bell from the Inchcape float. 

Down sank the Bell with a gurgling sound; 

The bubbles rose and burst around. 

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the 

Rock 
Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok." 

Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away; 
He scoured the sea for many a day ; 
And now grown rich with plundered store, 
He steers his course for Scotland's shore. 

So thick a haze o'erspread the sky, 
They cannot see the sun on high; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 147 

The wind hath blown a gale all day ; 
At evening it hath died away. 

On the deck the Rover takes his stand; 
So dark it is they see no land. 
Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be brighter soon, 
For there is the dawn of the rising moon." 

''Canst hear," said one, "the broken roar? 
For methinks we should be near the shore." 
"Now where we are I cannot tell. 
But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell." 

They hear no sound ; the swell is strong ; 
Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along 
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock: 
"O Christ ! it is the Inchcape Rock !" 

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair. 
He curst himself in his despair: 
The waves rush in on every side; 
The ship is sinking beneath the tide. 

But, even in his dying fear. 

One dreadful sound could the Rover hear, — 

A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell 

The Devil below was ringing his knell. 

Robert Southey. 



148 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Finding of the Lyre. 

Once a year my pupils teach me "The Finding of the Lyre." By 
the time I have learned it they know the meaning of every line and 
have caught the spirit of the verse. There is an ancient "lyre," or 
violin, made in northern Africa, in the possession of a Boston lady, 
and I have found the mud-turtle rattle among the Indians on the 
Indian reservation at Syracuse, New York. They use it as a musical 
instrament in their Thanksgiving dances. The poem helps to build an 
interest in history and mythology while it develops a child's reverence 
and insight, (i 819-91.) 

There lay upon the ocean's shore 
What once a tortoise served to cover; 
A year and more, with rush and roar, 
The surf had rolled it over. 
Had played with it, and flung it by, 
As wind and weather might decide it, 
Then tossed it high where sand-drifts dry 
Cheap burial might provide it. 

It rested there to bleach or tan, 

The rains had soaked, the sun had burned it; 

With many a ban the fisherman [ 

Had stumbled o 'er and spurned it ; 

And there the fisher-girl would stay, 

Conjecturing with her brother 

How in their play the poor estray 

Might serve some use or other. 

So there it lay, through wet and dry, 

As empty as the last new sonnet. 

Till by and by came Mercury, 

And, having mused upon it, 

"Why, here," cried he, "the thing of things 

In shape, material, and dimension ! 

Give it but strings, and, lo, it sings, 

A wonderful invention ! " 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 149 

So said, so done; the chords he strained, 
And, as his fingers o'er them hovered, 
The shell disdained a soul had gained, 
The lyre had been discovered. 
O empty world that round us lies. 
Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken, 
Brought we but eyes like Mercury's, 
In thee what songs should waken ! 

James Russell Lowell. 



A Chrysalis. 

"A Chrysalis" is a favourite poem with John Burroughs, and is 
found, too, in Stedman's collection. We all come to a point in life 
where we need to burst the shell and fly away into the new realm. 
(1835-98.) 

My little Madchen found one day 

A curious something in her play, 

That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed; 

It was not anything that grew, 

Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew; 

Had neither legs nor wings, indeed; 

And yet she was not sure, she said. 

Whether it was alive or dead. 

She brought it in her tiny hand 
To see if I would understand. 
And wondered when I made reply, 
"You've found a baby butterfly." 
"A butterfly is not like this," 
With doubtful look she answered me. 
So then I told her what would be 
Some day within the chrysalis ; 



150 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

How, slowly, in the dull brown thing 
Now still as death, a spotted wing, 
And then another, would unfold. 
Till from the empty shell would fly 
A pretty creature, by and by, 
All radiant in blue and gold. 

"And will it, truly?" questioned she — 
Her laughing lips and eager eyes 
All in a sparkle of surprise — 
"And shall your little Madchen see ? " 
" She shall ! " I said. How could I tell 
That ere the worm within its shell 
Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread. 
My little Madchen would be dead ? 

To-day the butterfly has flown, — 
She was not here to see it fly, — 
And sorrowing I wonder why 
The empty shell is mine alone. 
Perhaps the secret lies in this: 
I too had found a chrysalis, 
And Death that robbed me of delight 
Was but the radiant creature's flight ! 

Mary Emily Bradley. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 151 



For a' That. 

Robert Bums, the plowman and poet, " dinnered wi' a lord." The 
story goes that he was put at the second table. That lord is dead, but 
Robert Bums still lives. He is immortal. It is "the survival of the 
fittest." "For a' That and a' That" is a poem that wipes out the super- 
ficial value put on money and other externalities. This poem is more 
valuable in education than good penmanship or good spelling. (i7S9- 
96.) 

Is there, for honest poverty, 

That hangs his head, and a' that? 
The coward slave, we pass him by, 

We dare be poor for a' that ; 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Our toils obscure, and a' that; 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 

The man's the gowd for a' that ! 

What though on hamely fare we dine, 

Wear hoddin-gray,* and a' that; 
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 

A man's a man for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that ! 

Ye see yon birkie f ca'd a lord, 

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; 
Though hundreds worship at his word, 

He's but a coof % for a' that ; 
For a' that, and a' that. 

His riband, star, and a' that. 
The man of independent mind. 

He looks and laughs at a' that. 

* Coarse woolen clothes. t Impudent fellow. % Fool; blockhead. 



152 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

A prince can make a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that; 
But an honest man's aboon his might, 

Guid faith he maunna fa' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Their dignities, and a' that. 
The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, 

Are higher rank than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may — 

As come it will for a' that — 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 

May bear the gree, and a' that; 
For a' that, and a' that, 

It's coming yet for a' that. 
That man to man, the warld o'er, 

Shall brothers be for a' that ! 

Robert Burns. 

A New Arrival. 

"The New Arrival" is a valuable poem because it expresses the joy 
of a young father over his new baby. If girls should be educated to be 
good mothers, so should boys be taught that fatherhood is the highest 
and holiest joy and right of man. The child is educator to the man. 
He teaches him how to take responsibility, how to give unbiased judg- 
ments, and how to be fatherly like "Our Father who is in Heaven." 
(1844-.) 

There came to port last Sunday night 

The queerest little craft. 
Without an inch of rigging on; 

I looked and looked and laughed. 
It seemed so curious that she 

Should cross the Unknown water, 
And moor herself right in my room. 

My daughter, O my daughter ! 



I 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 153 

Yet by these presents witness all 

She's welcome fifty times, 
And comes consigned to Hope and Love 

And common-meter rhymes. 
She has no manifest but this, 

No flag floats o'er the water, 
She's too new for the British Lloyds — 

My daughter, O my daughter ! 

Ring out, wild bells, and tame ones too ! 

Ring out the lover's moon ! 
Ring in the little worsted socks ! 

Ring in the bib and spoon ! 
Ring out the muse ! ring in the nurse ! 

Ring in the milk and water ! 
Away with paper, pen, and' ink — 

My daughter, O my daughter ! 

George W. Cable. 



The Brook. 

Tennyson's "The Brook" is included out of love to a dear old school- 
mate in Colorado. The real brook, near Cambridge, England, is tame 
compared to your Colorado streams, O beloved comrade. This poem 
is well liked by the majority of pupils. (1809-92.) 

I CHATTER, chatter, as I flow 

To join the brimming river; 
For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on forever. 

I wind about, and in and out. 

With here a blossom sailing. 
And here and there a lusty trout, 

And here and there a grayling. 



154 Poems I hat Every Child Should Know 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 

1 slide by hazel covers; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, 
Among my skimming swallows ; 

I make the netted sunbeams dance 
Against my sandy shallows. 

I murmur under moon and stars 

In brambly wildernesses ; 
I linger by my shingly bars; 

I loiter round my cresses. 

And out* again I curve and flow 
To join the brimming river; 

For men may come and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



The Ballad of the " Clampherdown." 

"The Ballad of the Clampherdown," by Rudyard Kipling, is included 
because my boys always like it. It needs a great deal of explanation, 
and few boys will hold out to the end in learning it But "it pays." 
(1865-.) 

It was our war-ship Clampherdown 
Would sweep the Channel clean. 
Wherefore she kept her hatches close 
When the merry Channel chops arose, 
To save the bleached marine. 

She had one bow-gun of a hundred ton, 
And a great stern-gun beside; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 155 

They dipped their noses deep in the sea, 
They racked their stays and stanchions free 
In the wash of the wind-whipped tide. 

It was our war-ship Clampherdown, 

Fell in with a cruiser light 
That carried the dainty Hotchkiss gun 
And a pair o' heels wherewith to run, 

From the grip of a close-fought fight. 

She opened fire at seven miles — 

As ye shoot at a bobbing cork — 
And once she fired and twice she fired, 
Till the bow-gun drooped like a lily tired 
That lolls upon the stalk. 

"Captain, the bow-gun melts apace, 

The deck-beams break below, 
'Twere well to rest for an hour or twain. 
And botch the shattered plates again." 

And he answered, " Make it so." 

She opened fire within the mile — 
As ye shoot at the flying duck — 
And the great stern-gun shot fair and true. 
With the heave of the ship, to the stainless 
blue, 
And the great stern-turret stuck. 

** Captain, the turret fills with steam, 

The feed-pipes burst below — 
You can hear the hiss of helpless ram, 
You can hear the twisted runners jam." 

And he answered, " Turn and go !" 



156 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

It was our war-ship Clampherdown, 

And grimly did she roll; 
Swung round to take the cruiser's fire 
As the White Whale faces the Thresher's ire, ' 

When they war by the frozen Pole. 

*' Captain, the shells are falling fast, 

And faster still fall we; 
And it is not meet for English stock, 
To bide in the heart of an eight-day clock, 

The death they cannot see." 

"Lie down, lie down, my bold A. B., 

We drift upon her beam; 
We dare not ram, for she can run; 
And dare ye fire another gun, 

And die in the peeling steam?" 

It was our war-ship Clampherdown 

That carried an armour-belt; 
But fifty feet at stern and bow, 
Lay bare as the paunch of the purser's sow, 

To the hail of the Nordenfeldt. 

"Captain, they lack us through and through; 

The chilled steel bolts are swift ! 
We have emptied the bunkers in open sea, 
Their shrapnel bursts where our coal should 
be." 

And he answered, '* Let her drift." 

It was our war-ship Clampherdown, 
Swung round upon the tide, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 157 

Her two dumb guns glared south and north, 
And the blood and the bubbling steam ran 
forth, 
And she ground the cruiser's side. 

"Captain, they cry the fight is done, 
They bid you send your sword." 

And he answered, "Grapple her stern and bow. 

They have asked for the steel. They shall 
have it now; 
Out cutlasses and board!" 

It was our war-ship Clampherdown, 

Spewed up four hundred men; 
And the scalded stokers yelped delight, 
As they rolled in the waist and heard the fight, 

Stamp o'er their steel-walled pen. 

They cleared the cruiser end to end. 

From conning-tower to hold. 
They fought as they fought in Nelson's fleet ; 
They were stripped to the waist, they were 
bare to the feet, 

As it was in the days of old. 

It was the sinking Clampherdown 

Heaved up her battered side — 
And carried a million pounds in steel, 
To the cod and the corpse-fed conger-eel, 

And the scour of the Channel tide. 

It was the crew of the Clampherdown 
Stood out to sweep the sea, 



158 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

On a cruiser won from an ancient foe, 
As it was in the days of long-ago, 
And as it still shall be. 

RuDYARD Kipling. 



The Destruction of Sennacherib. 

"The Destruction of Sennacherib," by Lord Byron, finds a place 
in this collection because Johnnie, a ten-year-old, and many of his 
friends say, "It's great." (i 788-1824.) 

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold, 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the 

sea, 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

Like the leaves of the forest when the Summer is 

green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen: 
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath 

blown, 
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. 

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the 

blast. 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever 

grew still ! 

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide. 
But through it there rolled not the breath of his 
pride ; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 159 

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail, 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; 
And the might of the Gentile , unsmote by the sword , 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 

Lord Byron. 



I Remember, I Remember. 

I REMEMBER, I remember 
The house where I was born. 
The little window where the sun 
Came peeping in at morn; 
He never came a wink too soon 
Nor brought too long a day; 
But now, I often wish the night 
Had borne my breath away. 

I remember, I remember 

The roses, red and white. 

The violets, and the lily-cups — 

Those flowers made of light ! 

The lilacs where the robin built, 

And where my brother set 

The laburnum on his birthday, — 

The tree is livins: yet ! 



i6o Poems That Every Child Should Know 

I remember, I remember 

Where I was used to swing, 

And thought the air must rush as fresh 

To swallows on the wing ; 

My spirit flew in feathers then 

That is so heavy now, 

And summer pools could hardly cool 

The fever on my brow. 

I remember, I remember 

The fir trees dark and high; 

I used to think their slender tops 

Were close against the sky: 

It was a childish ignorance, 

But now 'tis little joy 

To know I'm farther off from Heaven 

Than when I was a boy. 

Thomas Hood. 

Driving Home the Cows. 

Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass 
He turned them into the river lane; 

One after another he let them pass. 
Then fastened the meadow bars again. 

Under the willows and over the hill. 

He patiently followed their sober pace; 

The merry whistle for once was still, 

And something shadowed the sunny face. 

Only a boy ! and his father had said 
He never could let his youngest go: 

Two already were lying dead, 

Under the feet of the trampling foe. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know i6i 

But after the evening work was done, 

And the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp, 

Over his shoulder he slung his gun. 

And stealthily followed the footpath damp. 

Across the clover, and through the wheat, 
With resolute heart and purpose grim: 

Though the dew was on his hurrying feet, 
And the blind bat's flitting startled him. 

Thrice since then had the lanes been white, 
And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom; 

And now, when the cows came back at night, 
The feeble father d-^ove them home. 

For news had come to the lonely farm 

That three were lying where two had lain; 

And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm 
Could never lean on a son's again. 

The summer day grew cool and late : 

He went for the cows when the work was done ; 
But down the lane, as he opened the gate. 

He saw them coming one by one: 

Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess, 

Shaking their horns in the evening wind ; 

Cropping the buttercups out of the grass, 
But who was it following close behind.'* 

Loosely swung in the idle air 

The empty sleeve of army blue; 
And worn and pale, from the crisping hair, 

Looked out a face that the father knew. 



1 62 Poems That Every Child Should Knew 

For close-barred prisons will sometimes yawn, 
And yield their dead imto life again ; 

And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn, 
In golden glory at last may wane. 

The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes; 

For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb, 
And under the silent evening skies 

Together they followed the cattle home. 

Kate Putnam Osgood. 



Krinken. 

"Krinken" is the dearest of poems. 

"Krinken was a little child. 

It was summer when he smiled ! ' ' 
Eugene Field, above all other poets, paid the finest tribute to 
children. This poet only, could make the whole ocean warm because 
a child's heart was there to warm it. 

Krinken was a little child, — 
It was summer when he smiled. 
Oft the hoary sea and grim 
Stretched its white arms out to him, 
Calling, "Sun-child, come to me; 
Let me warm my heart with thee ! " 
But the child heard not the sea 
Calling, yearning evermore 
For the summer on the shore. 

Krinken on the beach one day 
Saw a maiden Nis at play; 
On the pebbly beach she played 
In the summer Krinken made. 
Fair, and very fair, was she, 
Just a little child was he. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 163 

"Krinken," said the maiden Nis, 
"Let me have a Httle kiss, — 
Just a kiss, and go with me 
To the summer-lands that be 
Down within the silver sea." 

Krinken was a little child — 
By the maiden Nis beguiled, 
Hand in hand with her went he 
And 'twas summer in the sea. 
And the hoary sea and grim 
To its bosom folded him — 
Clasped and kissed the little form, 
And the ocean's heart was warm. 

Now the sea calls out no more; 
It is winter on the shore, — 
Winter where that little child 
Made sweet summer when he smiled ; 
Though 'tis summer on the sea 
Where with maiden Nis went he, — 
It is winter on the shore, 
Winter, winter evermore. 

Of the summer on the deep 
Come sweet visions in my sleep: 
His fair face lifts from the sea, 
His dear voice calls out to me, — 
These my dreams of summer be. 

Krinken was a little child, 
By the maiden Nis beguiled; 
Oft the hoary sea and grim 
Reached its longing arms to him, 



164 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Crying, "Sun-child, come to me; 
Let me warm my heart with thee ! " 
But the sea calls out no more; 
It is winter on the shore, — 
Winter, cold and dark and wild. 

Krinken was a little child, — 
It was summer when he smiled; 
Down he went into the sea, 
And the winter bides with me, 
Just a little child was he. 

Eugene Field. 



Stevenson's Birthday. 

*'How I should like a birthday!" said the child, 
"I have so few, and they so far apart." 

She spoke to Stevenson — the Master smiled — 
"Mine is to-day; I would with all my heart 

That it were yours ; too many years have I ! 

Too swift they come, and all too swiftly fly." 

So by a formal deed he there conveyed 
All right and title in his natal day, 
To have and hold, to sell or give away, — 

Then signed, and gave it to the little maid. 

Joyful, yet fearing to believe too much. 

She took the deed, but scarcely dared unfold. 

Ah, liberal Genius ! at whose potent touch 

All common things shine with transmuted gold ! 

A day of Stevenson's will prove to be 

Not part of Time, but Immortality. 

Katherine Miller. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 165 



A Modest Wit. 

I learned "A Modest Wit" as a reading-lesson when I was a child. 
It has clung to me and so I cling to it. It is just as good as it ever was. 
It is a sharp thrust at power that depends on externalities. Selleck 
Osborne ( .) 

A SUPERCILIOUS nabob of the East — 

Haughty, being great — purse-proud, being rich — 
A governor, or general, at the least, 

I have forgotten which — 
Had in his family a humble youth, 

Who went from England in his patron's suit, 
An unassuming boy, in truth 

A lad of decent parts, and good repute. 

This youth had sense and spirit; 

But yet with all his sense, 

Excessive diffidence 
Obscured his merit. 

One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine, 
His honour, proudly free, severely merry. 

Conceived it would be vastly fine 
To crack a joke upon his secretary. 

"Young man," he said, "by what art, craft, or 
trade. 

Did your good father gain a livelihood?" — 
"He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, 

"And in his time was reckon'd good." 

"A saddler, eh ! and taught you Greek, 

Instead of teaching you to sew ! 
Pray, why did not your father make 

A saddler, sir, of you ? " 



1 66 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Each parasite, then, as in duty bound, 

The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 

At length Modestus, bowing low, 
Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), 

"Sir, by 3^our leave, I fain would know 
Your father's trade ! " I 

"My father's trade ! by heaven, that's too bad ! 
My father's trade ? AVhy, blockhead, are you 

mad? 
My father, sir, did never stoop so low — 
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know." 

"Excuse the liberty I take," 

Modestus said, with archness on his brow, 
" Pray, why did not your father make 

A gentleman .of you ? ' ' 

Selleck Osborne. 



The Legend of Bishop Hatto. 

"The Legend of Bishop Hatto " is doubtless a myth (Robert Southey, 
1774-1843). But "The Mouse-Tower on the Rhine" is an object of 
interest to travellers, and the story has a point. 

The summer and autumn had been so wet, 
That in winter the corn was growing yet : 
'Twas a piteous sight to see, all around, 
The grain lie rotting on the ground. 

Every day the starving poor 
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door; 
For he had a plentiful last-year's store, 
And all the neighbourhood could tell 
His granaries were furnished well. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 167 

At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day 

To quiet the poor without delay : 

He bade them to his great barn repair, 

And they should have food for winter there. 

Rejoiced such tidings good to hear, 
The poor folk flocked from far and near; 
The great barn was full as it could hold 
Of women and children, and young and old. 

Then, when he saw it could hold no more, 
Bishop Hatto, he made fast the door; 
And while for mercy on Christ they call, 
He set fire to the barn and burned them all. 

" r faith, 'tis an excellent bonfire ! " quoth he; 
' ' And the country is greatly obliged to me 
For ridding it in these times forlorn 
Of Rats that only consume the corn." 

So then to his palace returned he. 

And he sat down to supper merrily, 

And he slept that night like an innocent man ; 

But Bishop Hatto never slept again. 

In the morning as he entered the hall. 
Where his picture hung against the wall, 
A sweat -like death all over him came ; 
For the Rats had eaten it out of the frame. 

As he looked, there came a man from his farm ; 
He had a countenance white with alarm: 
"My Lord, I opened your granaries this mom, 
And the Rats had eaten all your corn." 



1 68 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Another came running presently, 
And he was pale as pale could be : 
"Fly, my Lord Bishop, fly !" quoth he, 
"Ten thousand Rats are coming this way; 
The Lord forgive you yesterday ! " 

"I'll go to my town on the Rhine," replied he; 
"'Tis the safest place in Germany; 
The walls are high, and the shores are steep, 
And the stream is strong, and the water deep." 

Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away, 
And he crossed the Rhine without delay, 
And reached his tower, and barred with care 
All windows, doors, and loop-holes there. 

He laid him down, and closed his eyes; 

But soon a scream made him arise : 

He started and saw two eyes of flame 

On his pillow, from whence the screaming came. 

He listened and looked; it was only the cat: 
But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that ; 
For she sat screaming, mad with fear 
At the army of Rats that was drawing near. 

For they have swum over the river so deep, 
And they have climbed the shore so steep; 
And up the tower their way is bent. 
To do the work for which they were sent. 

They are not to be told by the dozen or score ; 
By thousands they come, and by myriads and|| 
more; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know i60 

Such numbers had never been heard of before, 
Such a judgment had never been witnessed of 
yore. 

Down on his knees the Bishop fell. 
And faster and faster his beads did tell, 
As, louder and louder drawing near, 
The gnawing of their teeth he could hear. 

And in at the windows and in at the door, 

And through the walls, helter-skelter they pour, 

And down from the ceiling and up through the 

floor. 
From the right and the left, from behind and 

before. 
And all at once to the Bishop they go. 

They have whetted their teeth against the 

stones ; 
And now they pick the Bishop's bones: 
They gnawed the flesh from every limb ; 
For they were sent to do judgment on him ! 

Robert Southey. 

Columbus. 

We are greatly indebted to Joaquin Miller for his "Sail On ! Sail On !" 
Endurance is the watchword of the poem and the watchword of our 
republic. Every man to his gun! Columbus discovered America in 
his own mind before he realised it or proved its existence. I have 
often drawn a chart of Columbus's life and voyages to show what need 
he had of the motto "Sail On!" to accomplish hjs end. This is one 
of our greatest American poems. The writer still lives in California. 

Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind the gates of Hercules ; 
Before him not the ghost of shores, 

Before him only shoreless seas. 



■o Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The good mate said : "Now must we pray, 
For lo ! the very stars are gone ; 

Speak, Admiral, what shall I say?" 
"Why say, sail on ! and on ! " 

"My men grow mut'nous day by day; 

My men grow ghastly wan and weak." 
The stout mate thought of home ; a spray 

Of salt wave wash'd his swarthy cheek. 
"What shall I say, brave Admiral, 

If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" 
"Why, you shall say, at break of day: 

* Sail on ! sail on ! and on ! '" 

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, 

Until at last the blanch'd mate said; 
"Why, now, not even God would know 

Should I and all my men fall dead. 
. These very winds forget their way, 

For God from these dread seas is gone. 
Now speak, brave Admiral, and say ■" 

He said : "Sail on ! and on ! " 

They sailed, they sailed, then spoke his mate : 

' ' This mad sea shows his teeth to-night, 
He curls his lip, he lies in wait. 

With lifted teeth as if to bite ! 
Brave Admiral, say but one word ; 

What shall we do when hope is gone ? " 
The words leaped as a leaping sword : 

"Sail on ! sail on ! and on !" 

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, 
And thro' the darkness peered that night. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 171 

Ah, darkest night ! and then a speck — 
A Hght ! a Hght ! a Hght ! a Hght ! 

It grew — a star-lit flag unfurled ! 
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn; 

He gained a world ! he gave that world 
Its watch-word : ' ' On ! and on ! " 

Joaquin Miller. 



The Shepherd of King Admetus. 

Once a year the children learn "The Shepherd of King Admetus," 
which is one of the finest poems ever written as showing the possible 
growth of real history into mythology, the tendency of mankind to 
deify what is fine or sublime in human action. Not every child will 
learn this entire poem, because it is so long. But every child will learn 
the best lines in it while the children are teaching it to me and when 
I take my turn in teaching it to them. No child fails to catch the 
spirit and intent of the poem and to become entirely familiar with it. 
(1819-91.) 

There came a youth upon the earth, 

Some thousand years ago. 
Whose slender hands were nothing worth, 

Whether to plow, or reap, or sow. 

Upon an empty tortoise-shell 

He stretched some chords, and drew 

Music that made men's bosoms swell 

Fearless, or brimmed their eyes with dew. 

Then King Admetus, one who had 

Pure taste by right divine, 
Decreed his singing not too bad 

To hear between the cups of wine : 

And so, well pleased with being soothed 
Into a sweet half -sleep, 



I 



172 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Three times his kingly beard he smoothed, 
And made him viceroy o'er his sheep. 

His words were simple words enough, 

And yet he used them so, 
That what in other mouths was rough 

In his seemed musical and low. 

Men called him but a shiftless youth, 

In whom no good they saw ; 
And yet, unwittingly, in truth, 

They made his careless words their law. 

They knew not how he learned at all. 

For idly, hour by hour. 
He sat and watched the dead leaves fall, 

Or mused upon a common flower. 

It seemed the loveliness of things 

Did teach him all their use. 
For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, 

He found a healing power profuse. 

Men granted that his speech was wise. 
But, when a glance they caught 

Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, 

They laughed, and called him good-for- 
naught. 

Yet after he was dead and gone. 

And e'en his memory dim, 
Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, 

More full of love, because of him. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 173 

And day by day more holy grew 

Each spot where he had trod, 
Till after-poets only knew 

Their first-born brother as a god. 

James Russell Lowell. 



How They Brought the Good News from 
Ghent to Aix. 

I have an old essay written by a lad of fourteen years on "How 
They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix." I should judge 
from this essay that any boy at that age would like the poem, even if he 
had not himself been over the ground as this boy had. (1812-89.) 

I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; 

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; 

"Good speed!" cried the watch as the gate-bolts 

undrew ; 
"Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through; 
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace 
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our 

place ; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girth tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique 

right, 
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the 

bit. 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near 
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned 
clear; 



174 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; 
At Diiffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; 
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the 

half -chime, 
So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time !" 

At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 

And against him. the cattle stood black every one, 

To stare through the mist at us galloping past. 

And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, 

With resolute shoulders, each butting away 

The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear 

bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his 

track ; 
And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! 
And the thick, heavy spume-flakes which aye 

and anon 
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay 

spur ! 
Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, 
We'll remember at Aix" — for one heard the quick 

wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering 

knees, 
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank. 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 175 

So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, 
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; 
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 
'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble 

like chaff; 
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 
And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight ! " 

"How they'll greet us!" — and all in a moment 

his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole 

weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her 

fate. 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff -coat, each holster let fall, 
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear. 
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without 

peer ; 
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, 

bad or good. 
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

And all I remember is — friends flocking round 
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the 

ground ; 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of 

mine. 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of 

wine, 



176 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 
Was no more than his due who brought good news 
from Ghent. 

Robert Browning. 



The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna. 

"The Burial of Sir John Moore" was one of my reading-lessons when 
I was a child. A distinguished teacher says: "It has become a part 
of popular education, as has also "The Eve of Waterloo" and "The 
Death of Napoleon." They are a'l poems of great rhythmical swing, 
intense and graphic. (1791-1823.) 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried; 

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

We buried him darkly at dead of night, 
The sods with our bayonets turning; 

By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 

Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
With his martial cloak around him. 

Few and short were the prayers we said, 
And we spoke not a word of. sorrow; 

But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed, 
And smoothed down his lonely pillow. 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 177 

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his 
head, 
And we far away on the billow ! 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — 

But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 

But half of our heavy task was done 

AVhen the clock struck the hour for retiring; 

And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down. 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; 

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone — 
But we left him alone with his glory ! 

C. Wolfe. 

The Eve of Waterloo. 

"The Eveof Waterloo, "by Lord Byron (i 788-1 824). Here is another 
old reading-book gem that will always be dear to every boy's heart if 
he only reads it a few times. 

There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 

Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. 

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again. 
And all went merry as a marriage-bell : 
But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a 
rising knell ! 



178 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Did ye not hear it ? No ; 'twas but the wind, 

Or the car ratthng o'er the stony street. 
On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ! 

No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure 
meet 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet ! 

But hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once 
more, 
As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 

And nearer, clearer, deadlier, than before ! 

Arm ! arm ! it is — it is the cannon's opening roar ! 

Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress 

And cheeks all pale, which, but an hour ago, 
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; 

And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 

Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess 
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 
Since upon night so sweet such awful mom 
could rise ? 

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car 

Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 

And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum 

Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; 

While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. 
Or w^hispering with white lips, "The foe ! They 
come ! They come ! " 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 179 

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, 
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass. 

Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves. 
Over the unreturning brave — alas ! 

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 

Which, now beneath them, but above shall grow 

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 
Of living valour, rolling on the foe, 
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold 
and low. 

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 

Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay; 
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife. 
The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day, 
Battle's magnificently stern array ! 

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which, when 
rent. 
The earth is covered thick with other clay. 

Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent. 
Rider, and horse — friend, foe — in one red burial 
blent ! 

Lord Byron. 

Ivry. 

A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 

Laddie, aged eleven, do you remember how you studied and recited 
"King Henry of Navarre" every poetry hour for a year? It was a long 
poem, but you stuck to it to the end. We did not know the meaning 
of a certain word, but I found it up in Switzerland. It is the name 
of a little town. (1800-59.) 

jR Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all 
IK glories are ! 

^B^nd glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of 
I Navarre ! 



i8o Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Now let there be the merry sound of music and of 

dance, 
Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, O 

pleasant land of France ! 
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city 

of the waters. 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning 

daughters. 
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our 

joy. 

For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought 

thy walls annoy. 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! a single field hath turned the 

chance of war. 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre. 

Oh ! how our hearts were beating, when, at the 

dawn of day. 
We saw the army of the League drawn out in long 

array ; 
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel 

peers, 
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's 

Flemish spears. 
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses 

of our land; 
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon 

in his hand; 
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's 

empurpled flood. 
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his | 

blood ; 



k Poems That Every Child Should Know i8i 

And we cried unto the living God, who rules the 

fate of war, 
To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of 

Navarre. 



The King is come to marshal us, in all his armour 

drest, 
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his 

gallant crest. 
He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his 

eye; 
He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was 

stern and high. 
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from 

wing to wing, 
Down all our line, a deafening shout, "God save 

our Lord the King ! " 
"And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well 

he may, 
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray. 
Press where ye see my white plume shine, amid 

the ranks of war. 
And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of 

Navarre." 

Hurrah ! the foes are moving. Hark to the 

mingled din 
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and 

roaring culverin. 
The fiery Duke is pricking fast across St. Andre's 

plain. 
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and 

Almayne. 



fc 



1 82 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen 

of France, 
Charge for the golden lilies, — upon them with the 

lance. 
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand 

spears in rest, 
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the 

snow-white crest; 
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while like 

a guiding star, 
Amid the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of 

Navarre. 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne 

hath turned his rein. 
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish 

count is slain. 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a 

Biscay gale ; 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, 

and cloven mail. 
And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along 

our van, 
"Remember St. Bartholomew!" was passed from 

man to man. 
But out spake gentle Henry, "No Frenchman is 

my foe: 
Down, down with every foreigner, but let your 

brethren go." 
Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or 

in war. 
As our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier of 

Navarre ? 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 183 

Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought 

for France to-day; 
And many a lordly banner God gave them for a 

prey. 
But we of the Religion have borne us best in fight ; 
And the good lord of Rosny has ta'en the cornet 

white. 
Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hathta'en, 
The cornet white with crosses black, the flag of 

false Lorraine. 
Up with it high; unfurl it wide; that all the host 

may know 
How God hath humbled the proud house which 

wrought His church such woe. 
Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their 

loudest points of war. 
Fling the red shreds, a foot cloth meet for Henry of 

Navarre. 

Ho ! maidens of Vienna ; Ho ! matrons of Lucerne ; 
Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who 

never shall return. 
Ho ! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, 
That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor 

spearmen's souls. 
Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your 

arms be bright; 
Ho ! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and 

ward to-night. 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God 

hath raised the slave, 
And mocked the counsel of the wise, the valour of 

the brave. 



184 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Then glory to His holy name, from whom all 

glories are; 
And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of 

Navarre. 

Thomas B. Macaulay. 



The Glove and the Lions. 

"The Glove and the Lions" was one of my early reading-lessons. 
It is an incisive thrust at the vanity of "fair" women. A woman 
should be a "true knight" as well as a man. Leigh Hunt (1784-1859). 

King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a 

royal sport. 
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on 

the court; 
The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in 

their pride, 
And 'mong them sat the Count de Lorge with 

one for whom he sighed : 
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning 

show. 
Valour, and love, and a king above, and the 

royal beasts below. 

Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing 

jaws; 
They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a 

wind went with their paws; 
With wallowing might and stifled roar they 

rolled on one another. 
Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a 

thunderous smother; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 1B5 

The bloody foam above the bars came whisking 

through the air; 
Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better 

here than there." 

De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, — a beauteous 

lively dame 
With smiling lips and sharp, bright eyes, which 

always seem'd the same : 
She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as 

brave can be; 
He surely would do wondrous things to show his 

love of me; 
King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is 

divine ; 
I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory 

will be mine." 

She dropp'd her glove, to prove his love, then 

look'd at him and smiled; 
He bowed, and in a moment leapt among the 

lions wild: 
His leap was quick, return was quick, he has 

regain'd his place, 
Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in 

the lady's face. 
"Well done!" cried Francis, "bravely done!" 

and he rose from where he sat : 
"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a 

task like that." 

Leigh Hunt. 



1 86 Poems That Every Child Shoidd Know 



The Well of St. Keyne. 

1 found the Well of St. Keyne in Cornwall, England— not the 
poem, but the real well. The poem is of the great body of world-lore. 
Southey (1774-1843)- 

A WELL there is in the west country, 
And a clearer one never was seen ; 

There is not a wife in the west-country 
But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. 

An oak and an elm tree stand beside, 
And behind does an ash tree grow. 

And a willow from the bank above 
Droops to the water below. 

A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne: 

Pleasant it was to his eye, 
For from cock-crow he had been travelling 

And there was not a cloud in the sky. 

He drank of the water so cool and clear, 

For thirsty and hot was he, 
And he sat down upon the bank, 

Under the willow tree. 

There came a man from the neighbouring town 

At the well to fill his pail; 
On the well-side he rested it, 

And bade the stranger hail. 

** Now, art thou a bachelor, stranger ? " quoth he, 

" For an if thou hast a wife, 
The happiest draught thou hast drunk this day 

That ever thou didst in thy hfe. 



I 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 187 

"Or has your good woman, if one you have, 

In Cornwall ever been ? 
For an if she have, I'll venture my life 

She has drunk of the Well of St. Keyne." 

"I have left a good woman who never was 
here," 
The stranger he made reply ; 
"But that my draught should be better for 
that, 
I pray you answer me why." 

"St. Keyne," quoth the countryman, "many 
a time 

Drank of this crystal well, 
And before the angel summoned her 

She laid on the water a spell. 

"If the husband of this gifted well 

Shall drink before his wife, 
A happy man thenceforth is he. 

For he shall be master for life. 

" But if the wife should drink of it first, 

God help the husband then !" 
The stranger stoop 'd to the Well of St. Keyne, 

And drank of the waters again. 

"You drank of the well, I warrant, betimes ? " 

He to the countryman said ; 
But the countryman smiled as the stranger 
spake, 

And sheepishly shook his head. 



1 88 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

"I hastened as soon as the wedding was done, 

And left my wife in the porch, 
But i' faith she had been wiser than me, 

For she took a bottle to church." 

Robert Southey. 



The Nautilus and the Ammonite. 

"The Nautilus and the Ammonite " finds a place here out of respect 
to a twelve -year-old girl who recited it at one of our poetry hours years 
ago. It made a profound impression on the fifty pupils assembled. 
I never read it without feeling that it stands test. Anonymous. 

The nautilus and the ammonite 
Were launched in friendly strife, 

Each sent to float in its tiny boat 
On the wide, wide sea of life. 

For each could swim on the ocean's brim. 
And, when wearied, its sail could furl, 

And sink to sleep in the great sea-deep. 
It its palace all of pearl. 

And theirs was a bliss more fair than this 
Which we taste in our colder clime; 

For they were rife in a tropic life — 
A brighter and better clime. 

They swam 'mid isles whose summer smiles 

Were dimmed by no alloy; 
Whose groves were palm, whose air was balm, 

And life one only joy. 

They sailed all day through creek and bay, 
And traversed the ocean deep; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 189 

And at night they sank on a coral bank, 
In its fairy bowers to sleep. 

And the monsters vast of ages past 
They beheld in their ocean caves; 

They saw them ride in their power and pride, 
And sink in their deep-sea graves. 

And hand in hand, from strand to strand, 

They sailed in mirth and glee; 
These fairy shells, with their crystal cells, 

Twin sisters of the sea. 

And they came at last to a sea long past. 

But as they reached its shore, 
The Almighty's breath spoke out in death, 

And the ammonite was no more. 

So the nautilus now in its shelly prow, 

As over the deep it strays. 
Still seems to seek, in bay and creek, 

Its companion of other days. 

And alike do we, on life's stormy sea, 

As we roam from shore to shore, 
Thus tempest-tossed, seek the loved, the lost, 

And find them on earth no more. 

Yet the hope how sweet, again to meet. 

As we look to a distant strand, 
Where heart meets heart, and no more they part 

Who meet in that better land. 

Anonymous. 



190 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk. 

I AM monarch of all I survey, 

My right there is none to dispute, 

From the center all round to the sea, 
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 

Solitude ! where are the charms 
That sages have seen in thy face ? 

Better dwell in the midst of alarms 
Than reign in this horrible place. 

1 am out of humanity's reach, 

I must finish my journey alone, 
Never hear the sweet music of speech, — 

I start at the sound of my own. 
The beasts that roam over the plain 

My form with indifference see; 
They are so unacquainted with man, 

Their tameness is shocking to me. 

Society, Friendship, and Love, 

Divinely bestow'd upon man, 
Oh, had I the wings of a dove. 

How soon would I taste you again ! 
My sorrows I then might assuage 

In the ways of religion and truth. 
Might learn from the wisdom of age. 

And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. 

Ye winds that have made me your sport, 
Convey to this desolate shore 

Some cordial endearing report 
Of a land I shall visit no more ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 191 

My friends — do they now and then send 

A wish or a thought after me ? 
Oh, tell me I yet have a friend, 

Though a friend I am never to see. 

How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 

Compared with the speed of its flight, 
The tempest itself lags behind, 

And the swift-winged arrows of light. 
When I think of my own native land, 

In a moment I seem to be there ; 
But alas ! recollection at hand 

Soon hurries me back to despair. 

But the seafowl is gone to her nest, 

The beast is laid down in his lair, 
Even here is a season of rest, 

And I to my cabin repair. 
There's mercy in every place, 

And mercy, encouraging thought ! 
Gives even affliction a grace. 

And reconciles man to his lot. 

William Cowper. 



192 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Homes of England. 

I wonder if the English people appreciate "The Homes of England." 
It is a stately poem worthy of a Goethe or a Shakespeare. England 
is distinctively a country of homes, pretty, little, humble homes as 
well as stately palaces and castles, homes well made of stone or brick 
for the most part, and clad with ivy and roses. Who would not be 
proud to have had such a home as Ann Hathaway 's humble cottage 
or one of the little huts in the Lake District ? The homes of America 
are often more palatial, especially in small cities, but the use of wood 
in America makes them less substantial than the slate-and-brick houses 
of England. (1749-183 5.) 

The stately homes of England ! 

How beautiful they stand, 
Amidst their tall ancestral trees, 

O'er all the pleasant land ! 
The deer across their greensward bound 

Through shade and sunny gleam, 
And the swan glides past them with the sound 

Of some rejected stream. 

The merry homes of England ! 

Around their hearths by night 
What gladsome looks of household love 

Meet in the ruddy light ! 
There woman's voice flows forth in song, 

Or childish tale is told, 
Or lips move tunefully along 

Some glorious page of old. 

The blessed homes of England ! 

How softly on their bowers 
Is laid the holy quietness 

That breathes from Sabbath hours ! 
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime 

Floats through their woods at morn; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 193 

All other sounds, in that still time, 
Of breeze and leaf are born. 

The cottage homes of England ! 

By thousands on her plains, 
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, 

And round the hamlets' fanes. 
Thnough glowing orchards forth they peep, 

Each from its nook of leaves; 
And fearless there the lowly sleep, 

As the bird beneath their eaves. 

The free, fair homes of England ! 

Long, long, in hut and hall 
May hearts of native proof be reared 

To guard each hallowed wall ! 
And green forever be the groves. 

And bright the flowery sod, 
Where first the child's glad spirit loves 

Its country and its God ! 

Felicia Hemans. 



Horatius at the Bridge. 

"Horatius at the Bridge" is too long a poem for children to memo- 
rise. But I never saw a boy who did not want some stanzas of it. 
"Hold the bridge with me!" Boys like that motto instinctively. 
T. B. Macaulay (1800-59). 

Lars Porsena of Clusium, 

By the Nine Gods he swore 
That the great house of Tarquin 

Should suffer wrong no more. 
By the Nine Gods he swore it, 

And named a trysting-day. 



194 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And bade his messengers ride forth, 
East and west and south and north, 
To summon his array. 

East and west and south and north 

The messengers ride fast, 
And tower and town and cottage 

Have heard the trumpet's blast. 
Shame on the false Etruscan 

Who lingers in his home 
When Porsena of Clusium 

Is on the march for Rome ! 

The horsemen and the footmen 

Are pouring in amain, 
From many a stately market-place, 

From many a fruitful plain; 
From many a lonely hamlet, 

Which, hid by beech and pine, 
Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest 

Of purple Apennine. 

The harvests of Arretium, 

This year, old men shall reap; 
This year, young boys in Umbro 

Shall plunge the struggling sheep; 
And in the vats of Luna, 

This year, the must shall foam 
Round the white feet of the laughing girls 

Whose sires have marched to Rome. 

There be thirty chosen prophets, 
The wisest of the land. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 195 

Who alway by Lars Porsena 
Both morn and evening stand: 

Evening and morn the Thirty 
Have turned the verses o'er, 

Traced from the right on Hnen white 
By mighty seers of yore. 

And with one voice the Thirty 

Have their glad answer given: 
"Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; 

Go forth, beloved of Heaven; 
Go, and return in glory 

To Clusium's royal dome; 
And hang round Nurscia's altars 

The golden shields of Rome." 

And now hath every city 

Sent up her tale of men; 
The foot are fourscore thousand, 

The horse are thousands ten. 
Before the gates of Sutrium 

Is met the great array. 
A proud man was Lars Porsena 

Upon the trysting-day. 

For all the Etruscan armies 

Were ranged beneath his eye, 
And many a banished Roman, 

And many a stout ally; 
And with a mighty following 

To join the muster came 
The Tusculan Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name. 



196 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

But by the yellow Tiber 

Was tumult and affright: 
From all the spacious champaign 

To Rome men took their flight. 
A mile around the city, 

The throng stopped up the ways; 
A fearful sight it was to see 

Through two long nights and days. 

Now, from the rock Tarpeian, 

Could the wan burghers spy 
The line of blazing villages 

Red in the midnight sky. 
The Fathers of the City, 

They sat all night and day, 
For every hour some horseman came 

With tidings of dismay. 

To eastward and to westward 

Have spread the Tuscan bands; 
Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecot, 

In Crustumerium stands. 
Verbenna down to Ostia 

Hath wasted all the plain; 
Astur hath stormed Janiculum, 

And the stout guards are slain. 

I wis, in all the Senate, 

There was no heart so bold, 

But sore it ached, and fast it beat. 
When that ill news was told. 

Forthwith up rose the Consul, 
Up rose the Fathers all; 



. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 197 

In haste they girded up their gowns, 
And hied them to the wall. 

They held a council standing 

Before the River Gate; 
Short time was there, ye well may guess. 

For musing or debate. 
Out spoke the Consul roundly: 

''The bridge must straight go down; 
For, since Janiculum is lost. 

Naught else can save the town." 

Just then a scout came flying, 

All wild with haste and fear: 
"To arms! to arms! Sir Consul; 

Lars Porsena is here." 
On the low hills to westward 

The Consul fixed his eye. 
And saw the swarthy storm of dvist 

Rise fast along the sky. 

And nearer, fast, and nearer 

Doth the red whirlwind come; 
And louder still, and still more loud. 
From underneath that rolling cloud. 
Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, 

The trampling and the hum. 
And plainly and more plainly 

Now through the gloom appears. 
Far to left and far to right. 
In broken gleams of dark -blue light. 
The long array of helmets bright, 

The long array of spears. 



198 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And plainly and more plainly, 

Above the glimmering line, 
Now might ye see the banners 

Of twelve fair cities shine; 
But the banner of proud Clusium 

Was the highest of them all, 
The terror of the Umbrian, 

The terror of the Gaul. 

Fast by the royal standard, 

O'erlooking all the war, 
Lars Porsena of Clusium 

Sat in his ivory car. 
By the right wheel rode Mamilius, 

Prince of the Latian name. 
And by the left false Sextus, 

That wrought the deed of shame. 

But when the face of Sextus 

Was seen among the foes, 
A yell that rent the firmament 

From all the town arose. 
On the house-tops was no woman 

But spat toward him and hissed, 
No child but screamed out curses. 

And shook its little fist. 

But the Consul's brow was sad. 
And the Consul's speech was low, 

And darkly looked he at the wall. 
And darkly at the foe. 

"Their van will be upon us 
Before the bridge goes down; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 199 

And if they once may win the bridge, 
What hope to save the town?" 

Then out spake brave Horatius, 

The Captain of the Gate: 
"To every man upon this earth 

Death cometh soon or late; 
And how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds, 
For the ashes of his fathers, 

And the temples of his gods, 

"And for the tender mother 

Who dandled him to rest, 
And for the wife who nurses 

His baby at her breast. 
And for the holy maidens 

Who feed the eternal flame. 
To save them from false Sextus 

That wrought the deed of shame ? 

"Hew down the bridge. Sir Consul, 

With all the speed ye may; 
I, with two more to help me. 

Will hold the foe in play. 
In yon straight path a thousand 

May well be stopped by three. 
Now who will stand on either hand, 

And keep the bridge with me?" 

Then out spake Spurius Lartius — 

A Ramnian proud was he — 
"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand. 

And keep the bridge with thee." 



200 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And out spake strong Herminius — 

Of Titian blood was he — 
"I will abide on thy left side, 

And keep the bridge with thee." 

^'Horatius," quoth the Consul, 

"As thou say'st, so let it be." 
And straight against that great array 

Forth went the dauntless Three. 
For Romans in Rome's quarrel 

Spared neither land nor gold, 
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, 

In the brave days of old. 

Now while the Three were tightening 

Their harness on their backs. 
The Consul was the foremost man 

To take in hand an ax; 
And Fathers raixed with Commons 

Seized hatchet, bar, and crow. 
And smote upon the planks above, 

And loosed the props below. 
Meanwhile the Tuscan army, 

Right glorious to behold, 
Came flashing back the noonday light, 
Rank behind rank, like surges bright 

Of a broad sea of gold. 

Four hundred trumpets sounded 

A peal of warlike glee, 
As that great host, with measured tread. 
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, 
Rolled slowly toward the bridge's head. 

Where stood the dauntless Three. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 201 

The Three stood calm and silent, 

And looked upon the foes, 
And a great shout of laughter 

From all the vanguard rose: 
And forth three chiefs came spurring 

Before that deep array; 
To earth they sprang, their swords they 

drew, 
And lifted high their shields, and flew 

To win the narrow way; 

Annus from green Tifemum, 

Lord of the Hill of Vines; 
And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves 

Sicken in Ilva's mines; 
And Picus, long to Clusium 

Vassal in peace and war. 
Who led to fight his Umbrian powers 
From that gray crag where, girt with towers, 
The fortress of Nequinum lowers 

O'er the pale waves of Nar. 

Stout Lartius hurled down Annus 

Into the stream beneath; 
Herminius struck at Seius, 

And clove him to the teeth; 
At Picus brave Horatius 

Darted one fiery thrust; 
And the proud Umbrian 's gilded arms 

Clashed in the bloody dust. 

Then Ocnus of Falerii 

Rushed on the Roman Three; 



202 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And Lausulus of Urgo, 

The rover of the sea; 
And Aruns of Volsinium, 

Who slew the great wild boar, 
The great wild boar that had his den 
Amid the reeds of Cosa's fen, 
And wasted fields and slaughtered men 

Along Albinia's shore. 

Herminius smote down Aruns; 

Lartius laid Ocnus low; 
Right to the heart of Lausulus 

Horatius sent a blow. 
"Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! 

No more, aghast and pale, 
From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark 
The track of thy destroying bark. 
No more Campania's hinds shall fly 
To woods and caverns when they spy 

Thy thrice accursed sail." 

But now no sound of laughter 

Was heard among the foes. 
A wild and wrathful clamour 

From all the vanguard rose. 
Six spears' length from the entrance 

Halted that deep array, 
And for a space no man came forth 

To win the narrow way. 

But hark ! the cry is Astur : 

And lo ! the ranks divide ; 
And the great Lord of Luna 

Comes with his stately stride. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 203 

Upon his ample shoulders 

Clangs loud the fourfold shield, 

And in his hand he shakes the brand 
Which none but he can wield. 

He smiled on those bold Romans, 

A smile serene and high; 
He eyed the flinching Tuscans, 

And scorn was in his eye. 
Quoth he: "The she-wolf's litter 

Stand savagely at bay; 
But will ye dare to follow, 

If Astur clears the way?" 

Then, whirling up his broadsword 

With both hands to the height, 
He rushed against Horatius, 

And smote with all his might. 
With shield and blade Horatius 

Right deftly turned the blow. 
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; 
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: 
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry 

To see the red blood flow. 

He reeled, and on Herminius 

He leaned one breathing space; 
Then, like a wildcat mad with wounds, 

Sprang right at Astur's face. 
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, 

So fierce a thrust he sped. 
The good sword stood a handbreadth out 

Behind the Tuscan's head. 



204 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And the great Lord of Luna 

Fell at the deadly stroke, 
As falls on Mount Alvemus 

A thunder-smitten oak. 
Far o'er the crashing forest 

The giant arms lie spread; 
And the pale augurs, muttering low, 

Gaze on the blasted head. 

On Astur's throat Horatius 

Right firmly pressed his heel, 
And thrice and four times tugged amain 

Ere he wrenched out the steel. 
**And see," he cried, "the welcome. 

Fair guests, that waits you here ! 
What noble Lucumo comes next 

To taste our Roraan cheer?" 

But at his haughty challenge 

A sullen murmur ran, 
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, 

Along that glittering van. 
There lacked not men of prowess, 

Nor men of lordly race; 
For all Etruria's noblest 

Were round the fatal place. 

But all Etruria's noblest 
Felt their hearts sink to see 

On the earth the bloody corpses. 
In the path the dauntless Three: 

And, from the ghastly entrance 
Where those bold Romans stood, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 205 

All shrank, like boys who unaware, 
Ranging the woods to start a hare, 
Come to the mouth of the dark lair 
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear 
Lies amid bones and blood. 

Was none who would be foremost 

To lead such dire attack? 
But those behind cried "Forward!" 

And those before cried "Back!" 
And backward now and forward 

Wavers the deep array; 
And on the tossing sea of steel 
To and fro the standards reel; 
And the victorious trumpet peal 

Dies fitfully away. 

Yet one man for one moment 

Strode out before the crowd; 
Well known was he to all the Three, 

And they gave him greeting loud: 
"Now welcome, welcome, Sextus ! 

Now welcome to thy home ! 
Why dost thou stay, and turn away ? 

Here lies the road to Rome." 

Thrice looked he at the city; 

Thrice looked he at the dead; 
And thrice came on in fury, 

And thrice turned back in dread: 
And, white with fear and hatred, 

Scowled at the narrow way 
Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, 

The bravest Tuscans lay. 



2o6 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

But meanwhile ax and lever 

Have manfully been plied, 
And now the bridge hangs tottering 

Above the boiling tide. 
"Come back, come back, Horatius!" 

Loud cried the Fathers all. 
"Back, Lartius ! Back, Herminius ! 

Back, ere the ruin lall !" 

Back darted Spurius Lartius; 

Herminius darted back: 
And, as they passed, beneath their feet 

They felt the timbers crack. 
But when they turned their faces, 

And on the farther shore 
Saw brave Horatius stand alone. 

They would have crossed once more. 

But with a crash like thunder 

Fell every loosened beam. 
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 

Lay right athwart the stream; 
And a long shout of triumph 

Rose from the walls of Rome, 
As to the highest turret tops 

Was splashed the yellow foam. 

And, like a horse unbroken 
When first he feels the rein, 

The furious river struggled hard, 
And tossed his tawny mane; 

And burst the curb, and bounded, 
Rejoicing to be free. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 207 

And whirling down, in fierce career, 
Battlement, and plank, and pier, 
Rushed headlong to the sea. 

Alone stood brave Horatius, 

But constant still in mind; 
Thrice thirty thousand foes before, 

And the broad flood behind. 
"Down with him !" cried false Sextus, 

With a smile on his pale face. 
"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 

"Now yield thee to our grace." 

Round turned he, as not deigning 

Those craven ranks to see; 
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, 

To Sextus naught spake he; 
But he saw on Palatinus 

The white porch of his home; 
And he spake to the noble river 

That rolls by the towers of Rome: 

"O Tiber! Father Tiber! 

To whom the Romans pray, 
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, 

Take thou in charge this day ! " 
So he spake, and speaking sheathed 

The good sword by his side. 
And, with his harness on his back, 

Plunged headlong in the tide. 

No sound of joy or sorrow 
Was heard from either bank; 



2o8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 
With parted lips and straining eyes, 

Stood gazing where he sank; 
And when above the surges 

They saw his crest appear, 
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, 
And even the ranks of Tuscany 

Could scarce forbear to cheer. 

And fiercely ran the current, 

Swollen high by months of rain; 
And fast his blood was flowing. 

And he was sore in pain, 
And heavy with his armour, 

And spent with changing blows: 
And oft they thought him sinking, 

But still again he rose. 

Never, I ween, did swimmer, 

In such an evil case, 
Struggle through such a raging flood 

Safe to the landing place; 
But his limbs were borne up bravely 

By the brave heart within, 
And our good Father Tiber 

Bore bravely up his chin. 

** Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus; 

' * Will not the villain drown ? 
But for this stay, ere close of day 

We should have sacked the town!" 
"Heaven help him !" quoth Lars Porsena, 

"And bring him safe to shore; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 209 

For such a gallant feat of arms 
Was never seen before." 

And now he feels the bottom; 

Now on dry earth he stands; 
Now round him throng the Fathers 

To press his gory hands; 
And now with shouts and clapping, 

And noise of weeping loud, 
He enters through the River Gate, 

Borne by the joyous crowd. 

They gave him of the corn land, 

That was of public right, 
As much as two strong oxen 

Could plow from mom till night: 
And they made a molten image, 

And set it up on high, 
And there it stands unto this day 

To witness if I lie. 

It stands in the Comitium, 

Plain for all folk to see, — 
Horatius in his harness, 

Halting upon one knee: 
And underneath is written, 

In letters all of gold, 
How valiantly he kept the bridge 

In the brave days of old. 

And still his name sounds stirring 

Unto the men of Rome, 
As the trumpet blast that cries to them 

To charge the Volscian home; 



210 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And wives still pray to Juno 
For boys with hearts as bold 

As his who kept the bridge so well 
In the brave days of old. 

And in the nights of winter, 

When the cold north winds blow, 
And the long howling of the wolves 

Is heard amid the snow; 
When round the lonely cottage 

Roars loud the tempest's din, 
And the good logs of Algidus 

Roar louder yet within; 

When the oldest cask is opened. 

And the largest lamp is lit; 
When the chestnuts glow in the embers, 

And the kid turns on the spit; 
When young and old in circle 

Around the firebrands close; 
When the girls are weaving baskets. 

And the lads are shaping bows; 

When the goodman mends his armour. 
And trims his helmet's plume; 
• When the goodwife's shuttle merril}^ 
Goes flashing through the loom, — 
With weeping and with laughter 

Still is the story told, 
How well Horatius kept the bridge 
In the brave days of old. 

Thomas B. Macaulay. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 211 



The Planting of the Apple-Tree. 

' ' The Planting of the Apple-Tree ' ' has become a favourite for ' ' Arbour 
Day" exercises. The planting of trees as against their destruction 
is a vital point in our political and national welfare. WilHam Cullen 
Bryant (i 794-1878). 

Come, let us plant the apple-tree. 
Cleave the tough greensward with the spade; 
Wide let its hollow bed be made ; 
There gently lay the roots, and there 
Sift the dark mould with kindly care, 

And press it o'er them tenderly, 
As round the sleeping infant's feet 
We softly fold the cradle sheet ; 

So plant we the apple-tree. 

What plant we in this apple-tree ? 
Buds, which the breath of summer days 
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays ; 
Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast, 
Shall haunt, and sing, and hide her nest; 

"We plant, upon the sunny lea, 
A shadow for the noontide hour, 
A shelter from the summer shower, 

When we plant the apple-tree. 

What plant we in this apple-tree .'* 
Sweets for a hundred flowery springs, 
To load the May wind's restless wings, 
W^hen, from the orchard row, he pours 
Its fragrance through our open doors ; 

A world of blossoms for the bee, 
Flowers for the sick girl's silent room, 
For the glad infant sprigs of bloom. 

We plant with the apple-tree. 



212 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

What plant we in this apple-tree ? 
Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, 
And redden in the August noon, 
And drop, when gentle airs come by. 
That fan the blue September sky, 

While children come, with cries of glee, 
And seek them where the fragrant grass 
Betrays their bed to those who pass, 

At the foot of the apple-tree. 

And when, above this apple-tree, 
The winter stars are quivering bright. 
The winds go howling through the night, 
Girls, whose eyes o'erflow with mirth, 
Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth, 

And guests in prouder homes shall see, 
Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine, 
And golden orange of the line. 

The fruit of the apple-tree. 

The fruitage of this apple-tree. 
Winds and our flag of stripe and star 
Shall bear to coasts that lie afar, 
Where men shall wonder at the view, 
And ask in what fair groves they grew ; 

And sojourners beyond the sea 
Shall think of childhood's careless day, 
And long, long hours of summer play. 

In the shade of the apple-tree. 

Each year shall give this apple-tree 
A broader flush of roseate bloom, 
A deeper maze of verdurous gloom, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 213 

And loosen, when the frost-clouds lower, 
The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower. 

The years shall come and pass, but we 
Shall hear no longer, where we lie, 
The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh, 

In the boughs of the apple-tree. 

And time shall waste this apple-tree. 
Oh, when its aged branches throw 
Thin shadows on the ground below, 
Shall fraud and force and iron will 
Oppress the weak and helpless still ? 

What shall the tasks of mercy be, 
Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears 
Of those who live when length of years 

Is wasting this apple-tree ? 

"Who planted this old apple-tree ? " 
The children of that distant day 
Thus to some aged man shall say ; 
And, gazing on its mossy stem. 
The gray-haired man shall answer them : 

"A poet of the land was he. 
Born in the rude but good old times ; 
'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes 

On planting the apple-tree." 

William Cullen Bryant. 



I 



PART V. 




■la 



PART V 

June. 

"June" (by James Russell Lowell, 1819-91) is a fragment from 
"The Vision of Sir Launfal." It finds a place in this volume because it 
is the most perfect description of a charming day ever written. 

What is so rare as a day in June ? 
Then, if ever, come perfect days; 
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, 

And over it softly her warm ear lays : 
Whether we look, or whether we listen, 
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 
Every clod feels a stir of might, 

An instinct within it that reaches and towers. 
And, groping blindly above it for light, 

Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; 
The flush of life may well be seen 

Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 
The cowslip startles in meadows green. 

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 
And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 

To be some happy creature's palace; 
The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 

Atilt like a blossom among the leaves. 
And lets his illumined being o'errun 

With the deluge of summer it receives ; 
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings. 
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; 
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — 
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best ? 
James Russell Lowell. 
217 



2i8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



A Psalm of Life. 

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO 

THE PSALMIST. 

"A Psalm of Life," by Henry W. Longfellow (1807-82), is like a 
treasure laid up in heaven. It should be learned for its future value 
to the child, not necessarily because the child likes it. Its value will 
dawn on him. 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 
Life is but an empty dream ! — 

For the soul is dead that slumbers. 
And things are not what they seem. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
Dust thou art, to dust retumest, 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting. 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 

Still, like muffled drums, are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in the strife ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know ^19 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
Act, — act in the .living Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time ; 

Footprints, that perhaps another. 
Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing. 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing. 

Learn to labour and to wait. 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



Barnacles. 

"Barnacles" (by Sidney Lanier, 1842-81) is a poem that I teach 
in connection with my lessons on natural history. We have a good 
specimen of a barnacle, and the children see them on the shells on the 
coast. The ethical point is invaluable. 

My soul is sailing through the sea, 
But the Past is heavy and hindereth me. 
The Past hath crusted cumbrous shells 
That hold the flesh of cold sea-mells 

About my soul. 
The huge waves wash, the high waves roll, 
Each barnacle clingeth and worketh dole 
And hindereth me from sailing ! 



220 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Old Past, let go, and drop i' the sea 
Till fathomless waters cover thee ! 
For I am living, but tjiou art dead; 
Thou drawest back, I strive ahead 

The Day to find. 
Thy shells unbind ! Night comes behind ; 
I needs must hurry with the wind 
And trim me best for sailing. 

Sidney Lanier. 



A Happy Life. 

How happy is he bom and taught 
That serveth not another's will; 

Whose armour is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill ! 

Whose passions not his master's are. 
Whose soul is still prepared for death, 

Not tied unto the world with care 
Of public fame, or private breath. 

Sir Henry Wotton. 



Home, Sweet Home ! 



I 



'Home, Sweet Home" (John Howard Payne, 1791-1852) is a poem 
that reaches into the heart. What is home? A place where we ex- J^', 
perience independence, safety, privacy, and where we can dispense 
hospitality. "The family is the true unit." 

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like 
home: 



^ 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 221 

A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, 
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with 

elsewhere. 

Home ! Home ! sweet, sweet Home ! 
There's no place like Home ! there's no place like 

Home ! 

An exile from Home, splendour dazzles in vain; 
O, give me my lowly thatched cottage again ! 
The birds singing gaily, that came at my call, — 
Give me them, — and the peace of mind, dearer 

than all ! 

Home ! Home ! sweet, sweet Home ! 
There's no place like Home ! there's no place like 

Home ! 

How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile. 
And the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile ! 
Let others delight 'mid new pleasures to roam. 
But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of Home ! 

Home ! Home ! sweet, sweet Home ! 
There's no place like Home ! there's no place like 
Home I 

To thee I'll return, overburdened with care; 
The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there; 
No more from that cottage again will I roam; 
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like Home. 

Home ! Home ! sweet, sweet Home ! 
There's no place like Home ! there's no place like 
Home ! 

John Howard Payne. 



222 Poems That Every Child Should Know 
From Casa Guidi "Windows. 

JULIET OF NATIONS. 

I HEARD last night a little child go singing 

'Neath Casa Guidi windows, by the church, 
O hella lihertd, O hella ! — stringing 

The same words still on notes he went in search 
So high for, you concluded the upspringing 

Of such a nimble bird to sky from perch 
Must leave the whole bush in a tremble green, 

And that the heart of Italy must beat, 
While such a voice had leave to rise serene 

'Twixt church and palace of a Florence street: 
A little child, too, who not long had been 

By mother's finger steadied on his feet, 
And still hella lihertd he sang. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



Woodman, Spare That Tree ! 

"Woodman, Spare That Tree" (by George Pope Morris, 1802-64) 
is included in this collection because I have loved it all my life, and I 
never knew any one who could or would offer a criticism upon it. Its 
value lies in its recognition of childhood's pleasures. 

Woodman, spare that tree ! 

Touch not a single bough ! 
In youth it sheltered me, 

And I'll protect it now. 
'Twas my forefather's hand 

That placed it near his cot; 
There, woodman, let it stand, 

Thy ax shall harm it not. 



\ 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 223 

That old familiar tree, 

Whose glory and renown 
Are spread o'er land and sea — 

And wouldst thou hew it down ? 
Woodman, forbear thy stroke ! 

Cut not its earth-bound ties ; 
Oh, spare that aged oak 

Now towering to the skies ! 

When but an idle boy, 

I sought its grateful shade ; 
In all their gushing joy 

Here, too, my sisters played. 
My mother kissed me here ; 

My father pressed my hand — 
Forgive this foolish tear, 

But let that old oak stand. 

My heart-strings round thee cling, 

Close as thy bark, old friend ! 
Here shall the wild-bird sing. 

And still thy branches bend. 
Old tree ! the storm still brave ! 

And, woodman, leave the spot; 
While I've a hand to save. 

Thy ax shall harm it not. 

George Pope Morris. 



Abide With Me. 

"Abide With Me" (Henry Francis Lyte, 1793-1847) appeals to 
■our natural longing for the unchanging and to our love of security. 

Abide with me ! fast falls the eventide ; 
The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ! 



2 24 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me. 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; 
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away; 
Change and decay in all around I see : 
O Thou who changest not, abide with me ! 

Henry Francis Lyte. 



Lead, Kindly Light. 

"Lead, Kindly Light," by John Henry Newman (1801-90), was 
written when Cardinal Newman was in the stress and strain of 
perplexity and mental distress and bodily pain. The poem has 
been a star in the darkness to thousands. It was the favourite poem 
of President McKinley. 

Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom, 

Lead Thou me on; 
The night is dark, and I am far from home, 

Lead Thou me on. 
Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
The distant scene ; one step enough for me. 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou 

Shouldst lead me on; 
I loved to choose and see my path; but now 

Lead Thou me on. 
I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears, 
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. 

So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still 

Will lead me on 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 

The night is gone, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 225 

And with the morn those angel faces smile, 
Which I have loved long since, and lost a while. 
John Henry Newman. 



The Last Rose of Summer. 

'Tis the last rose of summer 

Left blooming alone; 
All her lovely companions 

Are faded and gone; 
No flower of her kindred, 

No rose-bud is nigh, 
To reflect back her blushes. 

Or give sigh for sigh. 

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! 

To pine on the stem; 
Since the lovely are sleeping, 

Go, sleep thou with them. 
Thus kindly I scatter 

Thy leaves o'er the bed 
Where thy mates of the garden 

Lie scentless and dead. 

So soon may I follow. 

When friendships decay, 
And from Love's shining circle 

The gems drop away. 
When true hearts lie withered, 

And fond ones are flown, 
O ! who would inhabit 

This bleak world alone ? 

Thomas Moore. 



2 26 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Annie Laurie. 

"Annie Laurie" finds a place in this collection because it is the 
most popular song on earth. Written by William Douglas ( ). 

Maxwelton braes are bonnie 
Where early fa's the dew, 
And it's there that Annie Laurie 
Gie'd me her promise true — 
Gie'd me her promise true, 
Which ne'er forgot will be; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doune and dee. 

Her brow is like the snawdrift, 
Her throat is like the swan. 
Her face it is the fairest 
That e'er the sun shone on — • 
That e'er the sun shone on; 
And dark blue is her e'e; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doune and dee. 

Like dew on the gowan lying 
Is the fa' o' her fairy feet; 
Like the winds in summer sighing, 
Her voice is low and sweet — 
Her voice is low and sweet ; 
And she's a' the world to me; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doune and dee. 

William Douglas. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 227 



The Ship of State. 

A president of a well-known college writes me that "The Ship of 
State" was his favourite poem when he was a boy, and did more than 
any other to shape his course in life. Longfellow (1807-82). 

Sail on, sail on, O Ship of State ! 

Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! 

Humanity, with all its fears, 

With all the hopes of future years, 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 

We know what Master laid thy keel. 

What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 

Who made each mast, and sail, and rope; 

What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 

In what a forge and what a heat 

Were forged the anchors of thy hope ! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock — 

'Tis of the wave, and not the rock; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail. 

And not a rent made by the gale ! 

In spite of rock, and tempest roar. 

In spite of false lights on the shore. 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears. 

Our faith, triumphant o'er our fears. 

Are all with thee, are all with thee ! 

Henry W. Longfellow. 

[The Constitution and Laws are here personified, 
and addressed as "The Ship of State.")] 



22 8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



America. 

"America" (Samuel Francis Smith, 1808-95) is a good poem to learn 
as a poem,, regardless of the fact that every American who can sing it 
ought to know it. that he may join in the chorus when patriotic cele- 
brations call for it. My boys love to repeat the entire poem, but I 
often find masses of people trying to sing it, knowing only one stanza. 
It is our national anthem, and a part of cur education to knov/ every 
word of it. 

My country, 'tis of thee, 
Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing ; 
Land where my fathers died, 
Land of the Pilgrims' pride; 
From every mountain side, 

Let freedom ring. 

My native country, thee — 
Land of the noble free — 

Thy name I love ; 
I love thy rocks and rills. 
Thy woods and templed hills ; 
My heart with rapture thrills, 

Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees 

Sweet freedom's song; 
Let mortal tongues awake ; 
Let all that breathe partake ; 
Let rocks their silence break — 

The sound prolong. 



Our fathers' God, to Thee, 
Author of liberty. 
To Thee we sing ; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 229 

Long may our land be bright 
With freedom's holy light : 
Protect us by Thy might, 
Great God, our King. 

S. F. Smith. 



The Landing of the Pilgrims. 

"The Landing of the Pilgrims," by Felicia Hemans (1749-183 5), is 
poem that children want when they study the early history of America. 

The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock-bound coast, 

And the woods against a stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed. 

And the heavy night hung dark 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 

Not as the conqueror comes, 

They, the true-hearted, came; 
Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 

And the trumpet that sings of fame. 

Not as the flying come. 

In silence and in fear; 
They shook the depths of the desert gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amid the storm they sang. 

And the stars heard, and the sea: 

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the anthem of the free ! 



230 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam* 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — 

This was their welcome home ! 

There were men with hoary hair, 

Amid that pilgrim band; 
Why had they come to wither there, 

Away from their childhood's land ? 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth; 
There was manhood's brow serenely high, 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

What sought they thus afar? 

Bright jewels of the mine ? 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — 

They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 

Ay ! call it holy ground, 

The soil where first they trod : 
They have left unstained what there they 
found. 
Freedom to worship God. 

Felicia Hemans. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 231 



The Lotos-Eaters. 

The main idea in "The Lotus-Eaters" is, are we justified in running 
away from unpleasant duties? Or, is insensibility justifiable? 

Laddie, do you recollect learning this poem after we had read the 
story of "Odysseus"? "The struggle of the soul urged to action, but 
held back by the spirit of self-indulgence." These were the points 
we discussed. Alfred Tennyson (1809-92). 

"Courage ! " he said, and pointed toward the land, 
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward 

soon." 
In the afternoon they came unto a land 
In which it seemed always afternoon. 
All round the coast the languid air did swoon, 
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. 
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; 
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream 
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. 

A land of streams ! some, like a downward smoke, 
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go; 
And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, 
Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below. 
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow 
From the inner land: far off, three mountain- 
tops, 
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow. 
Stood sunset-flush' d: and, dew'd with showery 

drops, 
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven 
copse. 

The charmed sunset linger'd low adown 

In the red West: thro' mountain clefts the dale 



232 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Was seen far inland, and the yellow down 

Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale 

And meadow, set with slender galingale ; 

A land where all things always seem'd the same ! 

And round about the keel with faces pale, 

Dark faces pale against that rosy flame, 

The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came. 

Branches they bore of that enchanted stem, 
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave 
To each, but whoso did receive of them. 
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave 
Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave 
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake, 
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave; 
And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake, 
And music in his ears his beating heart did make. 

They sat them down upon the yellow sand. 
Between the sun and moon upon the shore; 
And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland, 
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore 
Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar. 
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam. 
Then some one said, "We will return no more; " 
And all at once they sang, "Our island home 
Is far beyond the wave ; we will no longer roam." 

Alfred Tennyson. 



Poems That Every Child Shotdd Know 233 



Moly. 

"Moly" (mo'ly), by Edith M. Thomas (1850-), is the best pos- 
sible presentation of the value of integrity. This poem ranks with 
"Sir Galahad," if not above it. It is a stroke of genius, and every 
American ought to be proud of it. Every time my boys read " Odysseus" 
or the story of Ulysses with me we read or learn "Moly." The plant 
moly grows in the United States as well as in Europe. 

Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, 
If thou touch at Circe's isle, — 
Hermes' moly, growing solely 
To undo enchanter's wile ! 
When she proffers thee her chalice, — 
Wine and spices mixed with malice, — 
When she smites thee with her staff 
To transform thee, do thou laugh ! 
Safe thou art if thou but bear 
The least leaf of moly rare. 
Close it grows beside her portal, 
Springing from a stock immortal, 
Yes ! and often has the Witch 
Sought to tear it from its niche ; 
But to thwart her cruel will 
The wise God renews it still. 
Though it grows in soil perverse, 
I Heaven hath been its jealous nurse. 

And a flower of snowy mark 
Springs from root and sheathing dark ; 
Kingly safeguard, only herb 
That can brutish passion curb ! 
Some do think its name should be 
Shield-Heart, White Integrity. 
Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, 
If thou touch at Circe's isle, — 



2 34 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Hermes' moly, growing solely 
To undo enchanter's wile ! 

Edith M. Thomas. 



Cupid Drowned. 

"Cupid Drowned" (1784-1859), "Cupid Stung" (1779-1852), and 
"Cupid and My Campasbe" (155 8- 160 6) are three dainty poems recom- 
mended by Mrs. Margaret Mooney, of the Albany Teachers' College, 
in her "Foundation Studies in Literature." Children are always 
delighted with them. 

T'other day as I was twining 

Roses, for a crown to dine in, 

What, of all things, 'mid the heap, 

Should I light on, fast asleep, 

But the little desperate elf. 

The tiny traitor, Love, himself ! 

By the wings I picked him up 

Like a bee, and in a cup 

Of my wine I plunged and sank him, 

Then what d'ye think I did ? — I drank him. 

Faith, I thought him dead. Not he ! 

There he lives with tenfold glee ; 

And now this moment with his wings 

I feel him tickling my heart-strings. 

Leigh Hunt. 



Cupid Stung. 

Cupid once upon a bed 

Of roses laid his weary head ; 

Luckless urchin, not to see 

Within the leaves a slumbering bee. 

The bee awak'd — with anger wild 

The bee awak'd, and stung the child. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 235 

Loud and piteous are his cries ; 
To Venus quick he runs, he flies; 
"Oh, Mother ! I am wounded through — 
I die with pain — in sooth I do ! 
Stung by some httle angry thing, 
Some serpent on a tiny wing — 
A bee it was — for once, I know, 
I heard a rustic call it so." 
Thus he spoke, and she the while 
Heard him with a soothing smile ; 
Then said, "My infant, if so much 
Thou feel the little wild bee's touch, 
How must the heart, ah, Cupid ! be. 
The hapless heart that's stung by thee ! " 

Thomas Moore. 

Cupid and My Campasbe. 

Cupid and my Campasbe played 

At cards for kisses. Cupid paid. 

He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows. 

His mother's doves and team of sparrows. 

Loses them, too ; then down he throws 

The coral of his lips, the rose 

Growing on his cheek, but none knows how; 

With them the crystal of his brow, 

And then the dimple of his chin. 

All these did my Campasbe win. 

At last he set her both his eyes ; 

She won and Cupid blind did rise. 

Oh, Love, hath she done this to thee ! 

What shall, alas, become of me ! 

John Lyly. 



1236 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



A Ballad for a Boy. 

Violo Roseboro, one of our good authors, brought to me "A Ballad 
for a Boy," saying: "I believe it is one of the poems that every child 
ought to know." It is included in this compilation out of respect to 
her opinion and also because the boys to whom I have read it said it was 
"great." The lesson in it is certainly fine. Men who are true men want 
to settle their own disputes by a hand-to-hand fight, but they will always 
help each other when a third party or the elements interfere. Hu- 
manity is greater than human interests. 

When George the Third was reigning, a hundred 

years ago, 
He ordered Captain Farmer to chase the foreign 

foe. 
"You're not afraid of shot," said he, "you're not 

afraid of wreck, 
So cruise about the west of France in the frigate 

called Quebec. 

"Quebec was once a Frenchman's town, but 

twenty years ago 
King George the Second sent a man called General 

Wolfe, you know. 
To clamber up a precipice and look into Quebec, 
As you'd look down a hatchway when standing 

on the deck. 



"If Wolfe could beat the Frenchmen then, so 

you can beat them now. 
Before he got inside the town he died, I must 

allow. 
But since the town was won for us it is a lucky 

name, 
And you'll remember Wolfe's good work, and | k].{ 

you shall do the same." 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 237 

Then Farmer said, "I'll try, sir," and Farmer 

bowed so low- 
That George could see his pigtail tied in a velvet bow. 
George gave him his commission, and that it 

might be safer. 
Signed "King of Britain, King of France," and 

sealed it with a wafer. 

Then proud was Captain Farmer in a frigate of 
his own, 

And grander on his quarter-deck than George 
upon his throne. 

He'd two guns in his cabin, and on the spar-deck ten, 

And twenty on the gun-deck, and more than ten- 
score men. 

And as a hunstman scours the brakes with sixteen 

brace of dogs, 
With two-and-thirty cannon the ship explored the 

fogs. 
From Cape la Hogue to Ushant, from Rochefort to 

Belleisle, 
She hunted game till reef and mud were rubbing 

on her keel. 

The fogs are dried, the frigate's side is bright with 

melting tar. 
The lad up in the foretop sees square white sails 

afar; 
The east wind drives three square-sailed masts 

from out the Breton bay, 
And "Clear for action!" Farmer shouts, and 

reefers yell "Hooray ! " 



238 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The Frenchraen's captain had a name I wish I I 
could pronounce; 

A Breton gentleman was he, and wholly free from 
bounce, 

One like those famous fellows who died by guil- 
lotine 

For honour and the fieur-de-lys, and Antoinette 
the Queen. 



The Catholic for Louis, the Protestant for George, 
Each captain drew as bright a sword as saintly 

smiths could forge; 
And both were simple seamen, but both could 

understand 
How each was bound to win or die for flag and 

native land. 

The French ship was La Surveillante, which means 
the watchful maid; j 

She folded up her head-dress and began to can- 
nonade. 

Her hull was clean, and ours was foul; we had to 
spread more sail. 

On canvas, stays, and topsail yards her bullets 
came like hail. j{ 



Sore smitten were both captains, and many lads 

beside. 
And still to cut our rigging the foreign gunners tried. 
A sail-clad spar came flapping down athwart a 

blazing gun; 
We could not quench the rushing flames, and so 

the Frenchman won. 



Poems That Every Child Shotdd Know 239 

Our quarter-deck was crowded, the waist was all 

aglow ; 
Men hung upon the taffrail half scorched, but 

loth to go ; 
Our captain sat where once he stood, and would not 

quit his chair. 
He bade his comrades leap for life, and leave him 

bleeding there 



The guns were hushed on either side, the French- 
men lowered boats, 

They flung us planks and hen-coops, and every- 
thing that floats. 

They risked their lives, good fellows ! to bring 
their rivals aid. 

'Twas by the conflagration the peace was strangely 
made. 



La Surveillante was like a sieve ; the victors had no 
rest; 

They had to dodge the east wind to reach the port 
of Brest. 

And where the waves leapt lower and the riddled 
ship went slower. 

In triumph, yet in funeral guise, came fisher- 
boats to tow her. 



They dealt with us as brethren, they mourned for 

Farmer dead; 
And as the wounded captives passed each Breton 

bowed the head. 



240 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Then spoke the French Lieutenant, '"Twas fire 

that won, not we. 
You never struck your flag to us; you'll go to 

England free." 

'Twas the sixth day of October, seventeen hundred 

seventy-nine, 
A year when nations ventured against us to 

combine, 
Quebec was burned and Farmer slain, by us re 

membered not; 
But thanks be to the French book wherein they're 

not forgot. 



■I 



Now you, if you've to fight the French, my 

youngster, bear in mind 
Those seamen of King Louis so chivalrous and kind; 
Think of the Breton gentlemen who took our 

lads to Brest, 
And treat some rescued Breton as a comrade and 

a guest. 



The Skeleton in Armour. 

"The Skeleton in Armoiir" (Longfellow, 1807-82) is a "boys' poem.' 
It is pure literature and good history. 

"Speak ! speak ! thou fearful guest ! 
Who, with thy hollow breast 
Still in rude armour drest, 

Comest to daunt me ! 
Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 
But with thy fleshless palms 
Stretched, as if asking alms, 

Why dost thou haunt me ? " 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 241 

Then from those cavernous eyes 
Pale flashes seemed to rise, 
As when the Northern skies 

Gleam in December; 
And, like the water's flow 
Under December's snow, 
Came a dull voice of woe 

From the heart's chamber. 

**I was a Viking old ! 

My deeds, though manifold, 

No Skald in song has told, 

No Saga taught thee ! 
Take heed that in thy verse 
Thou dost the tale rehearse. 
Else dread a dead man's curse; 

For this I sought thee. 

"Far in the Northern Land, 
By the wild Baltic's strand, 
I, with my childish hand, 

Tamed the gerfalcon ; 
And, with my skates fast -bound, 
Skimmed the half -frozen Sound, 
That the poor whimpering hound 

Trembled to walk on. 

"Oft to his frozen lair 
Tracked I the grizzly bear, 
While from my path the hare 
Fled like a shadow ; 



242 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Oft through the forest dark 
Followed the were-wolf 's bark, 
Until the soaring lark 
Sang from the meadow. 

" But when I older grew, 
Joining a corsair's crew, 
O'er the dark sea I flew 

With the marauders. 
Wild was the life we led ; 
Many the souls that sped, 
Many the hearts that bled. 

By our stern orders. 

"Many a wassail-bout 
Wore the long Winter out ; 
Often our midnight shout 

Set the cocks crowing. 
As we the Berserk's tale 
Measured in cups of ale, 
Draining the oaken pail 

Filled to o'erfiowing. 

"Once as I told in glee 
Tales of the stormy sea, 
Soft eyes did gaze on me. 

Burning yet tender; 
And as the white stars shine 
On the dark Norway pine, 
On that dark heart of mine 

Fell their soft splendour. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 243 

*' I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 
Yielding, yet half afraid, 
And in the forest's shade 

Our vows were plighted. 
Under its loosened vest 
Fluttered her little breast, 
Like birds within their nest 

By the hawk frighted. 

"Bright in her father's hall 
Shields gleamed upon the wall, 
Loud sang the minstrels all. 

Chanting his glory; 
When of old Hildebrand 
I asked his daughter's hand. 
Mute did the minstrels stand 

To hear my story. 

"While the brown ale he quaffed. 
Loud then the champion laughed. 
And as the wind-gusts waft 

The sea-foam brightly, 
So the loud laugh of scorn, 
Out of those lips unshorn, 
From the deep drinking-horn 

Blew the foam lightly. 

"She was a Prince's child, 
I but a Viking wild. 
And though she blushed and smiled, 
I was discarded ! 



244 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Should not the dove so white 
Follow the sea-mew's flight ? 
Why did they leave that night 
Her nest unguarded ? 

"Scarce had I put to sea, 
Bearing the maid with me, — 
Fairest of all was she 

Among the Norsemen ! — 
When on the white sea-strand. 
Waving his armed hand. 
Saw we old Hildebrand, 

With twenty horsemen. 

** Then launched they to the blast, 
Bent like a reed each mast, 
Yet we were gaining fast. 

When the wind failed us; 
And with a sudden flaw 
Came round the gusty Skaw, 
So that our foe we saw 

Laugh as he hailed us. 

''And as to catch the gale 
Round veered the flapping sail, 
'Death !' was the helmsman's hail, 

' Death without quarter ! ' 
Midships with iron keel 
Struck we her ribs of steel ; 
Down her black hulk did reel 

Through the black water ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know ^245 

"As with his wings aslant, 
Sails the fierce cormorant, 
Seeking some rocky haunt, 

With his prey laden. 
So toward the open main, 
Beating to sea again, 
Through the wild hurricane, 

Bore I the maiden. 

"Three weeks we westward bore. 
And when the storm was o'er. 
Cloud-like we saw the shore 

Stretching to leeward; 
There for my lady's bower 
Built I the lofty tower 
Which to this very hour 

Stands looking seaward. 

"There lived we many years; 
Time dried the maiden's tears; 
She had forgot her fears, 

She was a mother; 
Death closed her mild blue eyes; 
Under that tower she lies ; 
Ne'er shall the sun arise 

On such another. 

"Still grew my bosom then, 
Still as a stagnant fen ! 
Hateful to me were men, 
The sunlight hateful ! 



246 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

In the vast forest here, 
Clad in my warHke gear, 
Fell I upon my spear, 
Oh, death was grateful ! 

''Thus, seamed with many scars. 
Bursting these prison bars. 
Up to its native stars 

My soul ascended ! 
There from the flowing bowl 
Deep drinks the warrior's soul, 
Skoal ! to the Northland ! skoal ! " 

Thus the tale ended. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 

The Revenge. 

A BALLAD OF THE FLEET. 

Tennyson's (1807-92) "The Revenge" finds a welcome here because 
it is a favourite with teachers of elocution and their audiences. It 
teaches us to hold life cheap when the nation's safety is at stake. 

At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, 
And a pinnace, like a flutter' d bird, came flying 

from away : 
"Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted 

fifty-three !" 
Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God, 

I am no coward ; 
But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are 

out of gear, 
And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but 

follow quick. 
We are six ships of the line; can we fight with 

fifty-three?" 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 247 

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: **I know 

you are no coward; 
You fly them for a moment , to fight with them again . 
But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick 

ashore. 
I should count myself the coward if I left them, 

my Lord Howard, 
To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of 

Spain." 

So Lord Howard passed away with five ships of 

war that day, 
Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer 

heaven ; 
But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men 

from the land 
Very carefully and slow, 
Men of Bideford in Devon, 

And we laid them on the ballast down below; 
For we brought them all aboard, 
And they blest him in their pain that they were 

not left to Spain, 
To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory 

of the Lord. 

He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship 

and to fight. 
And he sail'd away from Flores till the Spaniard 

came in sight. 
With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather 

bow. 
"Shall we fight or shall we fly ? 
Good Sir Richard, tell us now, 
For to fight is but to die ! 



248 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

There'll be little of us left by the time this sun 

be set." 
And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good 

Englishmen. 
Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of 

the devil, 
For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet." 

Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roar'd 
a hurrah, and so 

The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of 
the foe. 

With her hundred fighters on deck, and her 
ninety sick below; 

For half of their fleet to the right and half to the 
left were seen. 

And the little Revenge ran on thro' the long sea- 
lane between. 

Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from 

their decks and laugh'd, 
Thousands of their seamen made mock at the 

mad little craft 
Running on and on, till delay 'd 
By their mountain -like San Philip that, of fifteen 

hundred tons. 
And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning 

tiers of guns. 
Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd. 

And while now the great San Philip hung above 

us like a cloud 
Whence the thunderbolt v/ill fall 
Long and loud. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 249 

Four galleons drew away 

From the Spanish fleet that day, 

And two upon the larboard and two upon the 

starboard lay, 
And the battle-thunder broke from them all. 



But anon the great San Philip, she bethought 

herself and went. 
Having that within her womb that had left her 

ill content; 
And the rest they came aboard us, and they 

fought us hand to hand. 
For a dozen times they came with their pikes and 

musqueteers. 
And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog 

that shakes his ears 
When he leaps from the water to the land. 

And the sun went down, and the stars came out 

far over the summer sea, 
But never a moment ceased the fight of the one 

and the fifty-three; 
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high- 
built galleons came, 
Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her 

battle-thunder and flame; 
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back 

with her dead and her shame. 
For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, 

and so could fight us no more — 
God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the 

world before? 



250 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

For he said, "Fight on ! fight on ! " 
Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck; 
And it chanced that, when half of the short 

summer night was gone, 
With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the 

deck, 
But a bullet struck him that was dressing it 

suddenly dead, 
And himself he was wounded again in the side 

and the head. 
And he said, "Fight on ! Fight on ! " 

And the night went down, and the sun smiled 

out far over the summer sea. 
And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay 

round us all in a ring ; 
But they dared not touch us again, for they 

fear'd that we still could sting. 
So they watch'd what the end would be. 
And we had not fought them in vain, 
But in perilous plight were we, 
Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, 
And half of the rest of us maim'd for life 
In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate 

strife ; 
And the sick men down in the hold were most 

of them stark and cold, 
And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the 

powder was all of it spent ; 
And the masts and the rigging were lying over 

the side ; 
But Sir Richard cried in his English pride: 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 251 

"We have fought such a fight for a day and a 

night 
As may never be fought again ! 
We have won great glory, my men ! 
And a day less or more 
At sea or ashore, 
We die — does it matter when ? 
Sink me the ship. Master Gunner — sink her, 

split her in twain ! 
Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands 

of Spain !" 

And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen 

made reply: 
"We have children, we have wives. 
And the Lord hath spared our lives. 
We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, 

to let us go ; 
We shall live to fight again, and to strike another 

blow." 
And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded 

to the foe. 
And the stately Spanish men to their flagship 

bore him then. 
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard 

caught at last. 
And they praised him to his face with their 

courtly foreign grace; 
But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: 
"I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant 

man and true ; 
I have only done my duty as a man is bound to 

do: 



252 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

With a joyful spirit I, Sir Richard Grenville, die !" 
And he fell upon their decks, and he died. 

And they stared at the dead that had been so 

valiant and true, 
And had holden the power and glor}^ of Spain so 

cheap 
That he dared her with one little ship and his 

English few. 
Was he devil or man ? He was devil for aught 

they knew, 
But they sank his bod}^ with honour down into 

the deep, 
And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthier 

alien crew. 
And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd 

for her own ; 
When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd 

awoke from sleep. 
And the water began to heave and the weather 

to moan. 
And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, 
And a wave like the wave that is raised by an 

earthquake grew, 
Till it smote on their hulls, and their sails, and 

their masts, and their flags, 
And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot- 

shatter'd navy of Spain, 
And the little Revenge herself went down by the 

island crags, 
To be lost evermore in the main. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 253 



Sir Galahad. 

Sir Galahad is the most moral and upright of all the Knights of 
the Round Table. The strong lines of the poem (Tennyson, 1809- 
92) are the strong lines of human destiny — 

"My strength is as the strength of ten 
Because my heart is pure." 

My good blade carves the casques of men, 

My tough lance thrusteth sure, 
My strength is as the strength of ten, 

Because my heart is pure. 
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, 

The hard brands shiver on the steel, 
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly, 

The horse and rider reel : 
They reel, they roll in clanging lists. 

And when the tide of combat stands. 
Perfume and flowers fall in showers. 

That lightly rain from ladies' hands. 

How sweet are looks that ladies bend 

On whom their favours fall ! 
For them I battle till the end. 

To save from shame and thrall : 
But all my heart is drawn above. 

My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine: 
I never felt the kiss of love. 

Nor maiden's hand in mine. 
More bounteous aspects on me beam. 

Me mightier transports move and thrill ; 
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer 

A virgin heart in work and will. 



2 54 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

When down the stormy crescent goes, 

A hght before me swims, 
Between dark stems the forest glows, 

I hear a noise of hymns : 
Then by some secret shrine I ride; 

I hear a voice, but none are there; 
The stalls are void, the doors are wide, 

The tapers burning fair. 
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth. 

The silver vessels sparkle clean, 
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 

And solemn chaunts resound between. 



Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres 

I find a magic bark; 
I leap on board: no helmsman steers: 

•I float till all is dark. 
A gentle sound, an awful light ! 

Three angels bear the holy Grail: 
With folded feet, in stoles of white, 

On sleeping wings they sail. 
Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! 

My spirit beats her mortal bars, 
As down dark tides the glory slides. 

And star-like mingles with the stars. 

When on my goodly charger borne 

Thro' dreaming towns I go, 
The cock crows ere the Christmas mom. 

The streets are dumb with snow. 
The tempest crackles on the leads, 

And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 255 

But o'er the dark a glory spreads, 

And gilds the driving hail. 
I leave the plain, I climb the height; 

No branchy thicket shelter yields; 
But blessed forms in whistling storms 

Ply o'er waste fens and windy fields. 

A maiden knight — to me is given 

Such hope, I know not fear; 
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 

That often meet me here. 
I muse on joy that will not cease, 

Pure spaces cloth'd in living beams, 
Pure lilies of eternal peace. 

Whose odours haunt my dreams; 
And, stricken by an angel's hand. 

This mortal armour that I wear. 
This weight and size, this heart and eyes, 

Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air. 

The clouds are broken in the sky. 

And thro' the mountain -walls 
A rolling organ-harmony 

Swells up, and shakes and falls. 
Then move the trees, the copses nod, 

Wings flutter, voices hover clear: 
"O just and faithful knight of God ! 

Ride on ! the prize is near." 
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; 

By bridge and ford, by park and pale, 
All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide, 

Until I find the holy Grail. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



256 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



A Name in the Sand. 

"A Name in the Sand," by Hannah Flagg Gould (1789-1865), is 
poem to correct our ready overestimate of our own importance. 

Alone I walked the ocean strand; 
A pearly shell was in my hand: 
I stooped and wrote upon the sand 

My name — the year — the day. 
As onward from the spot I passed, 
One lingering look behind I cast; 
A wave came rolling high and fast, 

And washed my lines away. 

And so, methought, 'twill shortly be 
With every mark on earth from me : 
A wave of dark oblivion's sea 

Will sweep across the place 
Where I have trod the sandy shore 
Of time, and been, to be no more, 
Of me — my day — ^the name I bore. 

To leave nor track nor trace. 

And yet, with Him who counts the sands 
And holds the waters in His hands, 
I know a lasting record stands 

Inscribed against my name. 
Of all this mortal part has wrought. 
Of all this thinking soul has thought. 
And from these fleeting moments caught 

For glory or for shame. 

Hannah Flagg Gould. 



, 




PART VI. 



PART VI. 

The Voice of Spring. 

"The Voice of Spring," by Felicia Hemans (1749-1835), becomes 
attractive as years go on. The line in this poem that captivated my 
youthful fancy was: 

"The larch has hung all his tassels forth." 
The delight with which trees hang out their new little tassels every 
year is one of the charms of "the pine family." John Burroughs sent 
us down a tiny hemlock, that grew in our window-box at school for 
five years, and every spring it was a new joy on account of the fine, 
tender tassels. Mrs. Hemans had a vivid imagination backed up by 
an abtmdant information. 

I COME, I come ! ye have called me long; 
I come o'er the mountains, with light and song. 
Ye may trace my step o'er the waking earth 
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, 
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, 
By the green leaves opening as I pass. 

I have breathed on the South, and the chestnut- 
flowers 
By thousands have burst from the forest bowers, 
And the ancient graves and the fallen fanes 
Are veiled with wreaths on Italian plains ; 
But it is not for me, in my hour of bloom, 
To speak of the ruin or the tomb ! 

I have looked o'er the hills of the stormy North, 

And the larch has hung all his tassels forth; 

The fisher is out on the sunny sea. 

And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free, 

And the pine has a fringe of softer green. 

And the moss looks bright, where my step has been. 

259 



26o Poems That Every Child Should Know 

I have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh, 
And called out each voice of the deep blue sky, 
From the night-bird's lay through the starry time, 
In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, 
To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, 
When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks. 

From the streams and founts I have loosed the 

chain ; 
They are sweeping on to the silvery main. 
They are flashing down from the mountain brows, 
They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs. 
They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, 
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves. 

Felicia Hemans. 

The Forsaken Merman. 

"The Forsaken Merman," by Matthew Arnold (1822-88), is a poem 
that I do not expect children to appreciate fully, even when they care 
enough for it to learn it. It is too long for most children to commit 
to memory, and I generally assign one stanza to one pupil and another 
to another pupil until it is divided up among them. The poem is a 
masterpiece. Doubtless the poet meant to show that the forsaken 
merman had a greater soul to save than the woman who sought to save 
her soul by deserting natural duty. Salvation does not come through 
the fault that faith builds itself at the expense of love. 

Come, dear children, let us away; 
Down and away below ! 
Now my brothers call from the bay. 
Now the great winds shoreward blow. 
Now the salt tides seaward flow; 
Now the wild white horses play. 
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. 
Children dear, let us away ! 
This way, this way ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 261 

Call her once before you go — 

Call once yet ! 

In a voice that she will know: 

"Margaret ! Margaret ! " 

Children's voices should be dear 

(Call once more) to a mother's ear; 

Children's voices, wild with pain — 

Surely she will come again ! 

Call her once and come away; 

This way, this way ! 

"Mother dear, we cannot stay! 

The wild white horses foam and fret." 

Margaret ! Margaret ! 

Come, dear children, come away down; 

Call no more ! 

One last look at the white-wall'd town, 

And the little gray church on the windy shore ; 

Then come down ! 

She will not come though you call all day; 

Come away, come away ! 

Children dear, was it yesterday 

We heard the sweet bells over the bay ? 

In the caverns where we lay, 

Through the surf and through the swell. 

The far-off sound of a silver bell ? 

Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep. 

Where the winds are all asleep; 

Where the spent lights quiver and gleam. 

Where the salt weed sways in the stream, 

Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round. 

Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground ; 



262 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, 
Dry their mail and bask in the brine; 
Where great whales come sailing by, 
Sail and sail, with unshut eye, 
Round the world forever and aye ? 
When did music come this way? 
Children dear, was it yesterday ? 

Children dear, was it yesterday 

(Call yet once) that she went away ? 

Once she sate with you and me, 

On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea. 

And the youngest sate on her knee. 

She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well. 

When down swung the sound of a far-off bell. 

She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green 
sea; 

She said: "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray 

In the little gray church on the shore to-day. 

'Twill be Easter-time in the world — ah me ! 

And I lose my poor soul. Merman ! here with thee." 

I said: "Go up, dear heart, through the waves; 

Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea- 
caves !" 

She smil'd, she went up through the surf in the bay. 

Children dear, was it yesterday? 
Children dear, were we long alone ? 
"The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; 
Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say; 
Come!" I said; and we rose through the surf in 
the bay. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 263 

We went up the beach, by the sandy down 
Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd 

town; 
Through the narrow pav'd streets, where all was 

still, 
To the little gray church on the windy hill. 
From the church came a murmur of folk at their 

prayers, 
But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. 
We climb 'd on the graves, on the stones worn with 

rains, 
And we gaz'd up the aisle through the small leaded 

panes. 
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: 
"Margaret, hist ! come quick, we are here ! 
Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone; 
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan." 
But, ah, she gave me never a look, 
For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book ! 
Loud prays the priest : shut stands the door. 
Come away, children, call no more ! 
Come away, come down, call no more ! 

Down, down, down ! 

Down to the depths of the sea ! 

She sits at her wheel in the humming town, 

Singing most joyfully. 

Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy. 

For the humming street, and the child with its toy ! 

For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well; 

For the wheel where I spun. 

And the blessed light of the sun ! " 

And so she sings her fill, 



264 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Singing most joyfully, 

Till the spindle drops from her hand, 

And the whizzing wheel stands still. 

She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, 

And over the sand at the sea; 

And her eyes are set in a stare; 

And anon there breaks a sigh, 

And anon there drops a tear, 

From a sorrow-clouded eye. 

And a heart sorrow-laden, 

A long, long sigh; 

For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden 

And the gleam of her golden hair. 

Come away, away, children; 

Come, children, come down ! 

The hoarse wind blows colder; 

Lights shine in the town. 

She will start from her slumber 

When gusts shake the door; 

She will hear the winds howling. 

Will hear the waves roar. 

We shall see, while above us 

The waves roar and whirl, 

A ceiling of amber, 

A pavement of pearl. 

Singing : * * Here came a mortal, 

But faithless was she ! 

And alone dwell forever 

The kings of the sea." 

But, children, at midnight, 
When soft the winds blow. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 265 

When clear falls the moonlight, 
When spring-tides are low ; 
When sweet airs come seaward 
From heaths starr'd with broom, 
And high rocks throw mildly 
On the blanch'd sands a gloom; 
Up the still, glistening beaches, 
Up the creeks we will hie, 
Over banks of bright seaweed 
The ebb-tide leaves dry. 
We will gaze, from the sand-hills, 
At the white, sleeping town; 
At the church on the hill-side — 
And then come back down. 
Singing: "There dwells a lov'd one, 
But cruel is she ! 
She left lonely forever 
The kings of the sea." 

Matthew Arnold. 



The Banks o' Doon. 

"The Banks o' Doon," by Robert Bums (1759-96). Bonnie 
Doon is in the southwestern part of Scotland Robert Burns 's old 
home is close to it. The house has low walls, a thatched roof, and 
only two rooms. Alloway Kirk and the two bridges so famous in 
Robert Bums's verse are near by. This is an enchanted land, and 
the Scotch people for miles around Ayr speak of the poet with sincere 
affection. Bums, more than any other poet, has thrown the enchant- 
ment of poetry over his own locality. 

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
How can ye blume sae fair ! 

How can ye chant, ye little birds. 
And I sae fu' o' care. 



266 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonnie bird 

That sings upon the- bough ; 
Thou minds me o' the happy days 

When my fause luve was true. 

Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonnie bird 
That sings beside thy mate; 

For sae I sat, and sae I sang, 
And wist na o' my fate. 

Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, 

To see the woodbine twine, 
And ilka bird sang o' its love, 

And sae did I o' mine. 

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 

Frae off its thorny tree ; 
And my fause luver staw the rose, 

But left the thorn wi' me. 

Robert Burns. 

The Light of Other Days. 

Oft in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Fond Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me : 
The smiles, the tears 
Of boyhood's years. 
The words of love then spoken ; 
The eyes that shone. 
Now dimmed and gone, 
The cheerful hearts now broken ! 
Thus in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 267 

Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 

When I remember all 

The friends so link'd together 
I've seen around me fall 

Like leaves in wintry weather, 
I feel like one 
Who treads alone 
Some banquet-hall deserted, 
Whose lights are fled, 
Whose garlands dead, 
And all but he departed ! 
Thus in the stilly night 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 

Thomas Moore. 

My Own Shall Come to Me. 

If John Burroughs (183 7-) had never written any other poem 
than "My Own Shall Come to Me," he would have stood to all ages as 
one of the greatest of American poets. The poem is most character- 
istic of the tall, majestic, slow-going poet and naturalist. There is 
no greater line in Greek or English literature than 

"I stand amid the eternal ways." 

Serene I fold my hands and wait. 
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea. 

I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, 
For lo ! my own shall come to me. 

I stay my haste, I make delays, 
For what avails this eager pace ? 

I stand amid the eternal ways, 

And what is mine shall know my face. 



268 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Asleep, awake, by night or day 
The friends I seek are seeking me ; 

No wind can drive my bark astray, 
Nor change the tide of destiny. 

What matter if I stand alone? 

I wait with joy the coming years; 
My heart shall reap when it has sown, 

And gather up its fruit of tears. 

The stars come nightly to the sky; 

The tidal wave comes to the sea; 
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, 

Can keep my own away from me. 

The waters know their own and draw 

The brook that springs in yonder heights; 

So flows the good with equal law 
Unto the soul of pure delights. 

JopN Burroughs. 

Ode to a Skylark. 

"Ode to a Skylark," by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), is 
usually assigned to "grammar grades" of schools. It is included here 
out of respect to a boy of eleven years who was more impressed with 
these lines than with any other lines in any poem: 
"Like a poet hidden, 

In the light of thought 
Singing songs unbidden 
Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not." 

Hail to thee, blithe spirit — 

Bird thou never wert — 
That from heaven or near it 
Pourest thy full heart 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 269 

Higher still and higher 

From the earth thou springest, 
Like a cloud of fire ; 

The blue deep thou wingest, 
And singing still dost soar and soaring ever singest. 

In the golden lightning 

Of the sunken sun, 
O'er which clouds are bright 'ning, 

Thou dost float and run, 
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 

The pale purple even 

Melts around thy flight; 
Like a star of heaven, 

In the broad daylight 
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. 

All the earth and air 

With thy voice is loud, 
As, when night is bare. 
From one lonely cloud 
The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is 
overflowed. 

What thou art we know not ; 

What is most like thee ? 
From rainbow-clouds there flow not 

Drops so bright to see 
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody : — 

Like a poet hidden 

In the light of thought ; 



270 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Singing hymns unbidden, 
Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. 

Teach us, sprite or bird, 

What sweet thoughts are thine : 
I have never heard 
Praise of love or wine 
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. 

Chorus hymeneal 

Or triumphal chaunt, 
Matched with thine, would be all 

But an empty vaunt — 
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 

What objects are the fountains 

Of thy happy strain ? 
What fields, or waves, or mountains? 
What shapes of sky or plain ? 
What love of thine own kind.^^ what ignorance of 
pain? 

Teach me half the gladness 

That thy brain must know, 
Such harmonious madness 
From my lips would flow, 
The world should listen then, as I am listening 
now ! 

Percy Bysshe Shelley. 






Poems That Every Child Should Know 271 



The Sands of Dee. 

I have often had the pleasure of riding across the coast from Chester, 
England, to Rhyl, on the north coast of Wales, where stretch "The 
Sands of Dee" (Charles Kingsley, 1819-75). These purple sands 
at low tide stretch off into the sea miles away, and are said to be full of 
quicksands . 

" O Mary, go and call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
Across the sands of Dee." 
The western wind was wild and dark with foam 
And all alone went she. 

The western tide crept up along the sand. 
And o'er and o'er the sand, 
And round and round the sand. 
As far as eye could see. 
The rolling mist came down and hid the land; 
And never home came she. 

Oh ! is it mud, or fish, or floating hair, — 
A tress of golden hair, 
A drowned maiden's hair, 
Above the nets at sea? 
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair 
Among the stakes on Dee. 

They rowed her in across the rolling foam, 
The cruel crawling foam. 
The cruel hungry foam. 
To her grave beside the sea. 
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home 
Across the sands of Dee. 

Charles Kingsley. 



272 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



A Wish. 

"A Wish" (by Samuel Rogers, 1763-1855) and "Lucy" (by Words- 
worth, 1 7 70-1 850) are two gems that can be valued only for the spirit 
of qtiiet and modesty diffused by them. 

Mine be a cot beside the hill; 

A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; 
A willowy brook that turns a mill 

With many a fall shall linger near. 

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch 
Shall twitter from her clay -built nest; 

Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, 

And share my meal, a welcome guest. 

Around my ivied porch shall spring 

Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; 

And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing 
In russet gown and apron blue. 

The village church among the trees, 

Where first our marriage-vows were given, 

With merry peals shall swell the breeze 
And point with taper spire to Heaven. 

S. Rogers. 



Lucy. 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways 

Beside the springs of Dove ; 
A maid whom there were none to praise, 

And very few to love. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 273 

A violet by a mossy stone 

Half -hidden from the eye ! 
Fair as a star, when only one 

Is shining in the sky. 

She lived unknown, and few could know 

When Lucy ceased to be ; 
But she is in her grave, and, oh, 

The difference to me ! 

William Wordsworth. 



Solitude. 

Happy the man, whose wish and care 
A few paternal acres bound. 
Content to breathe his native air 

In his own ground. 

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with 

bread. 
Whose flocks supply him with attire; 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 

Blest, who can unconcern 'dly find 
Hours, days, and years slide soft away 
In health of body, peace of mind. 
Quiet by day, 

Sound sleep by night; study and ease 
Together mixt, sweet recreation, 
And innocence, which most does please 
With meditation. 



2 74 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; 
Thus unlam.ented let me die ; 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 
Tell where I lie. 

Alexander Pope. 



John Anderson. 

"John Anderson," by Robert Burns (1759-96). This poem is 
included to please several teachers. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 
When we were first acquent 
Your locks were like the raven, 
Your bonnie brow was brent; 
But now your brow is bald, John, 
Your locks are like the snow ; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 
John Anderson, my jo. 

John Anderson, my jo, John, 
We clamb the hill thegither, 
And mony a canty day, John, 
We've had wi' ane anither; 
Now we maun totter down, John, 
But hand in hand we'll go, 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 
John Anderson, my jo. 

Robert Burns. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 275 



The God of Music. 

"The God of Music," by Edith M. Thomas, an Ohio poetess now 
living. In this sonnet the poetess has touched the power of Words- 
worth or Keats and placed herself among the immortals. 

The God of Music dwelleth out of doors. 
All seasons through his minstrelsy we meet, 
Breathing by field and covert haunting-sweet 
From organ-lofts in forests old he pours : 
A solemn harmony: on leafy floors 
To smooth autumnal pipes he moves his feet, 
Or with the tingling plectrum of the sleet 
In winter keen beats out his thrilling scores. 
Leave me the reed unplucked beside the stream, 
And he will stoop and fill it with the breeze; 
Leave me the viol's frame in secret trees, 
Unwrought, and it shall wake a druid theme; 
Leave me the v/hispering shell on Nereid shores. 
The God of Music dwelleth out of doors. 

Edith M. Thomas. 



A Musical Instrument. 

"A Musical Instrument" (by EHzabeth Barrett Browning (i8o6-6r). 
This poem is the supreme masterpiece of Mrs. Browning. The prime 
thought in it is the sacrifice and pain that must go to make a poet or 
any genius. 

"The great god sighed for the cost and the pain." 

What was he doing, the great god Pan, 

Down in the reeds by the river 1 
Spreading ruin and scattering ban, 
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, 
And breaking the golden lilies afloat 

With the dragon-fly on the river. 



276 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, 
From the deep cool bed of the river : 

The limpid water turbidly ran. 

And the broken lilies a-dying lay, 

And the dragon-fly had fled away. 
Ere he brought it out of the river. 

High on the shore sat the great god Pan, 

While turbidly flow'd the river; 
And hack'd and hew'd as a great god can, 
With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed, 
Till there was not a sign of a leaf indeed 

To prove it fresh from the river. 

He cut it short, did the great god Pan 

(How tall it stood in the river !) , 
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man. 
Steadily from the outside ring, 
And notch'd the poor dry empty thing 

In holes, as he sat by the river. 

"This is the way," laugh'd the great god Pan 

(Laugh'd while he sat by the river), 
"The only way, since gods began 
To make sweet music, they could succeed." 
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed. 
He blew in power by the river. 

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan ! 

Piercing sweet by the river ! 
BHnding sweet, O great god Pan ! 
The sun on the hill forgot to die, 
And the lilies reviv'd, and the dragon-fly 

Came back to dream on the river. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 277 

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, 

To laugh as he sits by the river, 
Making a poet out of a man : 
The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, — 
For the reed which grows nevermore again 

As a reed with the reeds in the river. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 



The Brides of Enderby. 

"The Brides of Enderby," by Jean Ingelow (1830-97). This poem 
is very dramatic, and the music of the refrain has done much to make 
it popular. But the pathos is that which endears it. 

The old mayor climb'd the belfry tower, 
The ringers ran by two, by three ; 

** Pull, if ye never pull'd before ; 

Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. 

"Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells ! 

Ply all your changes, all your swells. 
Play uppe, 'The Brides of Enderby.'" 

Men say it was a stolen tyde — 

The Lord that sent it, He knows all; 

But in myne ears doth still abide 
The message that the bells let fall : 

And there was naught of strange, beside 

The flight of mews and peewits pied 

By millions crouch 'd on the old sea wall. 

I sat and spun within the doore. 

My thread brake off, I rais'd myne eyes; 

The level sun, like ruddy ore, 
Lay sinking in the barren skies; 



278 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And dark against day's golden death 
She moved where Lindis wandereth, 
My Sonne's faire wife, EHzabeth. 

. " Cusha ! Cusha ! Cusha ! " calHng, 
Ere the early dews were falling, 
Farre away I heard her song, 
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along; 
Where the reedy Lindis fioweth, 

Floweth, fioweth, 
From the meads where melick groweth 
Faintly came her milking song — 

"Cusha ! Cusha ! Cusha ! " calling, • 
"For the dews will soone be falling; 
Leave your meadow grasses mellow, 

Mellow, mellow; 
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; 
Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot ; 
Quit the stalks of parsley hollow, 

Hollow, hollow; 
Come uppe. Jetty, rise and follow. 
From the clovers lift your head; 
Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot, 
Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow, 
Jetty, to the milking shed." 

If it be long, ay, long ago, 

When I beginne to think howe long, 
Againe I hear the Lindis flow. 

Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong; 
And all the aire, it seemeth mee. 
Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), 
That ring the tune of Enderby. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 2 79 

Alle fresh the level pasture lay, 
And not a shadowe mote be seene, 

Save where full fyve good miles away 
The steeple tower 'd from out the greene; 

And lo ! the great bell farre and wide 

Was heard in all the country side 

That Saturday at eventide. 

The swanherds where their sedges are 
Mov'd on in sunset's golden breath, 

The shepherde lads I heard afarre, 
And my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth; 

Till floating o'er the grassy sea 

Came downe that kyndly message free, 

The "Brides of Mavis Enderby." 

Then some look'd uppe into the sky, 
And all along where Lindis flows 

To where the goodly vessels lie. 

And where the lordly steeple shows. 

They sayde, "And why should this thing be ? 

What danger lowers by land or sea ? 

They ring the tune of Enderby ! 

"For evil news from Mablethorpe, 
Of pyrate galleys warping down ; 
For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe, 

They have not spar'd to wake the towne: 
But while the west bin red to see, 
And storms be none, and pyrates flee, 
Why ring 'The Brides of Enderby' ?" 

I look'd without, and lo ! my sonne 

Came riding downe with might and main : 



2 So Poems That Every Child Should Know 

He rais'd a shout as he drew on, 
Till all the welkin rang again, 
"Elizabeth ! Elizabeth ! " 
(A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 
■Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) 

"The olde sea wall," he cried, "is downe, 
The rising tide comes on apace, 

And boats adrift in yonder towne 
Go sailing uppe the market-place." 

He shook as one that looks on death : 

"God save you, mother ! " straight he saith; 

"Where is my wife, Elizabeth?" 

"Good Sonne, where Lindis winds her way, 

With her two bairns I marked her long ; 
And ere yon bells beganne to play 
Afar I heard her milking song." 
He looked across the grassy lea. 
To right, to left, "Ho, Enderby ! " 
They rang "The Brides of Enderby !" 

With that he cried and beat his breast ; 

For, lo ! along the river's bed 
A mighty eygre rear'd his crest. 

And uppe the Lindis raging sped. 
It swept with thunderous noises loud ; 
Shap'd like a curling snow-white cloud, 
Or like a demon in a shroud. 

And rearing Lindis backward press'd 
Shook all her trembling bankes amaine ; 

Then madly at the eygre 's breast 

Flung uppe her weltering walls again. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 281 

Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout — 
Then beaten foam flew round about — 
Then all the mighty floods were out. 

So farre, so fast the eygre drave, 
The heart had hardly time to beat 

Before a shallow seething wave 
Sobb'd in the grasses at oure feet: 

The feet had hardly time to flee 

Before it brake against the knee, 

And all the world was in the sea. 

Upon the roofe we sate that night, 
The noise of bells went sweeping by ; 

I mark'd the lofty beacon light 

Stream from the church tower, red and 
high— 

A lurid mark and dread to see ; 

And awsome bells they were to mee, 

That in the dark rang "Enderby." 

They rang the sailor lads to guide 

From roofe to roofe who fearless row'd; 

And I — my sonne was at my side, 
And yet the ruddy beacon glow'd: 

And yet he moan'd beneath his breath, 

" O come in life, or come in death ! 

O lost ! my love, Elizabeth." 

And didst thou visit him no more ? 

Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare 
The waters laid thee at his doore, 

Ere yet the early dawn was clear. 



282 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace, 
The hfted sun shone on thy face, 
Downe drifted to thy dwelHng-place. 

That flow strew'd wrecks about the grass, 
That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea; 

A fatal ebbe and flow, alas ! 

To manye more than myne and mee ; 

But each will mourn his own (she saith) ; 

And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath 

Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth. 

I shall never hear her more 

By the reedy Lindis shore, 

" Cusha ! Cusha ! Cusha ! " calling, 

Ere the early dews be falling; 

I shall never hear her song, 

' * Cusha ! Cusha ! " all along 

Where the sunny Lindis floweth, 
Goeth, floweth; 

From the meads where melick groweth. 
When the water winding down, 
Onward floweth to the town. 

I shall never see her more 

Where the reeds and rushes quiver, 

Shiver, quiver; 
Stand beside the sobbing river, 
Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling 
To the sandy lonesome shore; 
I shall never hear her calling, 
"Leave your meadow grasses mellow, 

Mellow, mellow; 
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 283 

Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot ; 
Quit your pipes of parsley hollow, 

Hollow, hollow; 
Come uppe, Lightfoot, rise and follow; 

Lightfoot, Whitefoot, 
From your clovers lift the head ; 
Come uppe, Jetty, follow, follow, 
Jetty, to the milking shed." 

Jean Ingelow. 



The Lye. 

"The Lye," by Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618) , is one of the strongest 
and most appealing poems a teacher can read to her pupils when teach- 
ing early American history. The poem is full of magnificent Hnes, such 
as "Go, sotal, the body's guest." The poem never lacks an attentive 
audience of young people when correlated with the study of North 
Carolina and Sir Walter Raleigh. The solitary, majestic character 
of Sir Walter Raleigh, his intrepidity while tuidergoing tortures in- 
flicted by a cowardly king, the ring of indignation — all these make 
a weapon for him stronger than the ax that beheaded him. In this 
poem he "has the last word." 

GoE, soule, the bodie's guest, 

Upon a thanklesse arrant ; 
Feare not to touche the best — 
The truth shall be thy warrant ! 
Goe, since I needs must dye, 
And give the world the lye. 



\ 



Goe tell the court it glowes 

And shines like rotten wood ; 
Goe tell the church it showes 
What's good, and doth no good; 
If church and court reply. 
Then give them both the lye. 



284 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Tell potentates they live 

Acting by others' actions — 
Not loved unlesse they give, 

Not strong but by their factions ; 
If potentates reply, 
Give potentates the lye. 

Tell men of high condition, 
That rule affairs of state, 
Their purpose is ambition, 
Their practice only hate; 
And if they once reply. 
Then give them all the lye. 

Tell zeale it lacks devotion ; 

Tell love it is but lust; 
Tell time it is but motion ; 
Tell flesh it is but dust ; 
And wish them not reply, 
For thou must give the lye. 

Tell wit how much it wrangles 
In tickle points of nicenesse ; 
Tell wisdome she entangles 
Herself e in over-wisenesse ; 
And if they do reply, 
Straight give them both the lye. 

Tell physicke of her boldnesse ; 

Tell skill it is pretension ; 
Tell charity of coldnesse; 
Tell law it is contention ; 
And as they yield reply, 
So give them still the lye. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 285 

Tell fortune of her blindnesse ; 

Tell nature of decay ; 
Tell friendship of unkindnesse ; 
Tell justice of delay; 
And if they dare reply, 
Then give them all the lye. 

Tell arts they have no soundnesse, 

But vary by esteeming; 
Tell schooles they want profoundnesse, 
And stand too much on seeming ; 
If arts and schooles reply, 
Give arts and schooles the lye. 

So, when thou hast, as I 

Commanded thee, done blabbing — 
Although to give the lye 

Deserves no less than stabbing — 
Yet stab at thee who will, 
No stab the soule can kill. 

Sir Walter Raleigh. 

L' Envoi. 

"L'Envoi," by Rudyard Kipling, is a favourite on account of its 
sweeping assertion of the individual's right to self-development. 

When Earth's last picture is painted, and the 

tubes are twisted and dried, 
When the oldest colours have faded, and the 

youngest critic has died, 
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it — lie 

down for an seon or two. 
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us 

to work anew ! 



286 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And those who were good shall be happy: they 
shall sit in a golden chair ; 

They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with 
brushes of comet's hair; 

They shall find real saints to draw from — Magda- 
lene, Peter, and Paul; 

They shall work for an age at a sitting and never 
be tired at all ! 

And only the Master shall praise us, and only 

the Master shall blame; 
And no one shall work for money, and no one 

shall work for fame; 
But each for the joy of the working, and each, 

in his separate star, 
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of 

Things as They Are ! 

RuDYARD Kipling. 



Contentment. 

"Contentment," by Edward Dyer (1545-1607). This poem holds 
much to comfort and control people who are shut up to the joys of 
meditation — people to whom the world of activity is closed. To be 
independent of things material — this is the soul's pleasure. 

My mind to me a kingdom is ; 

Such perfect joy therein I find 
As far excels all earthly bliss 

That God or Nature hath assigned; 
Though much I want that most would have, 
Yet still my mind forbids to crave. 

Content I live; this is my stay, — 
I seek no more than may suffice. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 287 

I press to bear no haughty sway ; 

Look, what I lack my mind supplies. 
Lo, thus I triuniph like a king, 
Content with that my mind doth bring. 

I laugh not at another's loss, 

I grudge not at another's gain; 
No worldly wave my mind can toss; 

I brook that is another's bane. 
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend; 
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end. 

My wealth is health and perfect ease ; 

My conscience clear my chief defense; 
I never seek by bribes to please 

Nor by desert to give offense. 
Thus do I live, thus will I die; 
Would all did so as well as I ! 

Edward Dyer. 



The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls. 

The harp that once through Tara's halls 

The soul of music shed. 
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 

As if that soul were fled. 
So sleeps the pride of former days, 

So glory's thrill is o'er. 
And hearts, that once beat high for praise, 

Now feel that pulse no more. 

No more to chiefs and ladies bright 
The harp of Tara swells : 



2 88 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The chord alone, that breaks at night, 

Its tale of ruin tells. 
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, 

The only throb she gives 
Is when some heart indignant breaks, 

To show that still she lives. 

Thomas Moore. 



The Old Oaken Bucket. 

"The Old Oaken Bucket," by Samuel Woodworth (i 785-1 848), is a 
poem we love because it is an elegant expression of something very dear 
and homely. 

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my child- 
hood. 
When fond recollection presents them to view ! 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild- 
wood. 
And every loved spot which my infancy knew ! 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood 
by it, 
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, 
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it. 

And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well — 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. 
The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. 

That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure, 
For often at noon, when returned from the field, 

I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure. 
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 

How ardent I seized it, with hands that were 
glowing, 
And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 289 

Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, 
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the 
well — 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. 

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, 

As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! 
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave 
it, 

The brightest that beauty or revelry sips. 
And now, far removed from the loved habitation, 

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, 

And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well — 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well ! 

Samuel Woodworth. 



The Raven. 

"The Raven," by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-49), is placed here 
because so many college men speak of it at once as the great poem of 
their boyhood. The poem caiight me when a child by its refrain and 
weird picturesqueness. It has never outgrown its mechanical charm. 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, 
weak and weary. 

Over many a quaint and curious volume of for- 
gotten lore — 

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there 
came a tapping. 

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my 
chamber door — 



290 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

*"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my 
chamber door — 

Only this, and nothing more." 

Ah ! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak 

December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost 

upon the floor; 
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought 

to borrow 
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the 

lost Lenore — 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels 

name Lenore — 

Nameless here for evermore. 

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each 
purple curtain 

Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never 
felt before; 

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I 
stood repeating, 

*"Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my 
chamber door — 

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my cham- 
ber door : 

This it is, and nothing more." 

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then 

no longer, 
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness 

I implore; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 291 

But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you 

came rapping. 
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my 

chamber door. 
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I 

opened wide the door : 

Darkness there, and nothing more. 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, 

wondering, fearing. 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared 

to dream before; 
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness 

gave no token. 
And the only word there spoken was the whispered 

word, "Lenore!" 
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the 

word, "Lenore!" 

Merely this, and nothing more. 

Back into my chamber turning, all my soul within 

me burning. 
Soon again I heard a rapping, something louder 

than before: 
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my 

window lattice ; 
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery 

explore — 
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery 

explore. 

'Tis the wind, and nothing more." 



292 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a 

flirt and flutter, 
In there stepped a stately Raven, of the saintly 

days of yore; 
Not the least obeisance made he, not a minute 

stopped or stayed he; 
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my 

chamber door — 
Perched above a bust of Pallas, just above my 

chamber door — 

Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into 

smiling, 
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance 

it wore; 
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," 

I said, "art sure, no craven; 
Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering 

from the nightly shore, 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night's 

Plutonian shore?" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear dis- 
course so plainly, 

Though its answer, little meaning, little relevancy 
bore; 

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human 
being 

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his 
chamber door — 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 293 

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his 
chamber door 

With such a name as "Nevermore." 

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, 

spoke only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he 

did outpour; 
Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather 

then he fluttered, 
Till I scarcely more than muttered — "Other 

friends have flown before, 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have 

flown before." 

Then the bird said, "Nevermore." 

Startled by the stillness broken by reply so aptly 
spoken, 

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only 
stock and store. 

Caught from some unhappy master, whom un- 
merciful disaster 

Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one 
burden bore — 

Till the dirges of his hope this melancholy burden 
bore — 

Of 'Never, nevermore.'" 

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into 

smiling. 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of 

bird, and bust, and door; 



2 94 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to 

linking 
Fancy into fancy, thinking what this ominous bird 

of yore — 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and 

ominous bird of yore 

Meant in croaking "Nevermore." 

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable 

expressing 
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my 

bosom's core; 
This and more I sat divining, with my head at 

ease reclining 
On the cushion's velvet lining, that the lamp-light 

gloated o'er, 
But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light 

gloating o'er. 

She shall press, ah, nevermore ! 

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed 

from an unseen censer 
Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on 

the tufted floor. 
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee— by 

these angels He hath sent thee 
Respite — respite and nepenthe from my memories 

of Lenore ! 
Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this 

lost Lenore !" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 295 

"Prophet," said I, "thing of evil — prophet still, 

if bird or devil ! 
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed 

thee here ashore 
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land 

enchanted, 
On this home by horror haunted — tell me truly, 

I implore. 
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me, tell 

me, I implore !" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

"Prophet," said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, 

if bird or devil ! 
By that heaven that bends above us — by that God 

we both adore — 
Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if, within the 

distant Aiden 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels 

name Lenore ! 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels 

name Lenore?" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

"Be that our sign of parting, bird or fiend," I 

shrieked, upstarting — 
"Get thee back into the tempest and the night's 

Plutonian shore; 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy 

soul hath spoken, 
Leave my loneliness unbroken — quit the bust 

above my door, 



296 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Take thy beak from out my heart and take thy 
form from off my door!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still 
is sitting, 

On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my cham- 
ber door; 

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that 
is dreaming. 

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming, throws his 
shadow on the floor; 

And my soul from out that shadow, that lies float- 
ing on the floor, 

Shall be lifted — nevermore ! 

Edgar Allan Poe. 



Arnold von W^inkleried. 

"Make way for liberty!" he cried. 

Made way for liberty, and died. 

In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, 

A living wall, a human wood, — 

A wall, where every conscious stone 

Seemed to its kindred thousands grown. 

A rampart all assaults to bear, 

Till time to dust their frames should wear: 

So still, so dense the Austrians stood, 

A living wall, a human wood. 

Impregnable their front appears. 
All horrent with projected spears, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 297 

Whose polished points before them shine, 
From flank to flank, one brilHant hne, 
Bright as the breakers' splendours run 
Along the billows to the sun. 

Opposed to these a hovering band 

Contended for their fatherland; 

Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke 

From manly necks the ignoble yoke, 

And beat their fetters into swords. 

On equal terms to fight their lords; 

And what insurgent rage had gained, 

In many a mortal fray maintained; 

Marshalled, once more, at Freedom's call, 

They came to conquer or to fall. 

Where he who conquered, he who fell. 

Was deemed a dead or living Tell, 

Such virtue had that patriot breathed, 

So to the soil his soul bequeathed. 

That wheresoe'er his arrows flew. 

Heroes in his own likeness grew, 

And warriors sprang from every sod, 

Which his awakening footstep trod. 

And now the work of life and death 
Hung on the passing of a breath; 
The fire of conflict burned within. 
The battle trembled to begin; 
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground. 
Point for attack was nowhere found; 
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed. 
The unbroken line of lances blazed; 



298 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

That line 'twere suicide to meet, 

And perish at their tyrant's feet; 

How could they rest within their graves, 

And leave their homes, the homes of slaves? 

Would not they feel their children tread. 

With clanging chains, above their head? 

It must not be; this day, this hour, 
Annihilates the invader's power; 
All Switzerland is in the field; 
She will not fly, — she cannot yield, — 
She must not fall; her better fate 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the numbers she could boast, 
But every freeman was a host. 
And felt as 'twere a secret known 
That one should turn the scale alone. 
While each unto himself was he 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one indeed; 

Behold him, — Arnold Winkelried; 

There sounds not to the trump of fame 

The echo of a nobler name. 

Unmarked he stood amid the throng, 

In rumination deep and long. 

Till you might see, with sudden grace, 

The very thought come o'er his face; 

And, by the motion of his form. 

Anticipate the bursting storm. 

And, by the uplifting of his brow, 

Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 299 

But 'twas no sooner thought than done ! 
The field was in a moment won; 
"Make way for Hberty !" he cried, 
Then ran, with arms extended wide, 
As if his dearest friend to clasp; 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp; 
"Make way for liberty!" he cried. 
Their keen points crossed from side to side ; 
He bowed amidst them like a tree, 
And thus made Way for liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comrades fly, 

"Make way for liberty !" they cry. 

And through the Austrian phalanx dart. 

As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart, 

While instantaneous as his fall, 

Rout, ruin, panic, seized them all; 

Ah earthquake could not overthrow 

A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free; 
Thus Death made way for Liberty ! 

James Montgomery. 



Life, I Know Not What Thou Art. 

Life ! I know not what thou art, 

But know that thou and I must part; 

And when, or how, or where we met 

I own to me's a secret yet. 

Life ! we've been long together 

Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 



300 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

'Tis hard to part when friends are dear — 

Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; 

— Then steal away, give little warning, 

Choose thine own time; 

Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime 

Bid me Good Morning. 

A. L. Barbauld. 



Mercy. 

"Mercy," an excerpt from "The Merchant of Venice," "Polonius* 
Advice," from "Hamlet," and "Brutus's Speech," from "Julius Caesar" 
(all fragments from Shakespeare, 1564-1616), find a place in this book 
because a well-known New York teacher — one who is unremitting in his 
efforts to raise the good taste and character of his pupils — says: "A 
book of poetry could not be complete without these extracts." 

The quality of mercy is not strain'd; 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven 

Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; 

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 

The throned monarch better than his crown: 

His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 

But mercy is above his sceptered sway; 

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 

It is an attribute to God himself; 

And earthly power doth then show likest God's 

When mercy seasons justice. 

Shakespeare ("Merchant of Venice"). 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 301 



Polonius' Advice. 

See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
Be thou famiHar, but by no means vulgar: 
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, 
Bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judg- 
ment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy. 
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy: 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man. 

/Neither a borrower nor a lender be; 

I For loan oft loses both itself and friend. 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
This above all : to thine own self be true ; 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man. 

Shakespeare ("Hamlet"). 



A Fragment from Brutus's Speech. 

This was the noblest Roman of them all: 
All the conspirators, save only he. 
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; 
He only, in a general honest thought 



302 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And common good to all, made one of them. 
His life was gentle; and the elements 
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, 
And say to all the world, "This was a man ! " 
Shakespeare ("Julius Caesar"). 



The Skylark. 

Bird of the wilderness. 

Blithesome and cumberless, 
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea ! 

Emblem of happiness, 

Blest is thy dwelling-place — 
Oh, to abide in the desert with thee ! 

Wild is thy lay and loud. 

Far in the downy cloud, 
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. 

Where, on thy dewy wing. 

Where art thou journeying ? 
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. 

O'er fell and fountain sheen. 

O'er moor and mountain green. 
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, 

Over the cloudlet dim. 

Over the rainbow's rim, 
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away ! 

Then, when the gloaming comes, 
Low in the heather blooms 
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 303 

Emblem of happiness, 
Blest is thy dwelling-place — 
Oh, to abide in the desert with thee ! 

Thomas Hogg. 



The Choir Invisible. 

"The Choir Invisible" (by George Eliot, 1819-80) is a fitting 
exposition in poetry of this "Shakespeare of prose." 

O, MAY I join the choir invisible 

Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence; live 

In pulses stirred to generosity, 

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn 

Of miserable aims that end with self, 

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, 

And with their mild persistence urge men's minds 

To vaster issues. 

May I reach 
That purest heaven, — be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony, 
Enkindle generous ardour, feed pure love, 
Beget the smiles that have no cruelty, 
Be the sweet presence of good diffused, 
And in diffusion ever more intense ! 
So shall I join the choir invisible, 
Whose music is the gladness of the world. 

George Eliot. 



304 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The World Is Too Much With Us. 

"The World Is Too Much With Us," by Wordsworth (1770-1850), 
is perhaps the greatest sonnet ever written. It is true that "the 
eyes of the soul" are blinded by a surfeit of worldly "goods." 
"I went to the Lake District" (England), said John Burroughs, "to see 
what kind of a country could produce a Wordsworth." Of course he 
found simple houses, simple people, barren moors, heather-clad 
mountains, wild flowers, calm lakes, plain, rugged simplicity. 

The world is too much with us; late and soon, 

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; 

Little we see in Nature that is ours. 
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! 
This sea, that bares her bosom to the moon. 

The winds that will be howling at all hours. 

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers — 
For this, for everything, we are out of tune; 
It moves us not. Great God ! I'd rather be 

A pagan, suckled in a creed outworn. 
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea. 

Have glimpses that v/ould make me less forlorn ; 
Have sight of Proteus, rising from the sea. 

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. 

William Wordsworth. 



On His Blindness. 

"Sonnet on His Blindness" (by John Milton, 1608-74)- This 
is the most stately and pathetic sonnet in existence. The soul endtiring 
enforced idleness and loss of power without repining. Inactivity made 
to serve a higher end. 

"All service ranks the same with God! 
There is no first or last." 

When I consider how my light is spent 

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 
'And that one talent which is death to hide, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 305 

Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent 
To serve therewith my Maker, and present 

My true account, lest He, returning, chide; 

Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? 
I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent 
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need 

Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best 

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best; His 
state 
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed, 

And post o'er land and ocean without rest; 

They also serve who only stand and wait. 

John Milton. 



She 'Was a Phantom of Delight. 

"She Was a Phantom of Delight" (by William Wordsworth, 1770- 
1850) is included here because it is a picture of woman as she should 
be, not made dainty by finery, but by fine ideals — 
"And not too good 
For human nature's daily food. 

She was a Phantom of delight 

When first she gleamed upon my sight ; 

A lovely Apparition, sent 

To be a moment's ornament; 

Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; 

Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair: 

But all things else about her drawn 

From May -time and the cheerful Dawn. 

A dancing Shape, an Image gay, 

To haunt, to startle, and waylay. 

I saw her upon nearer view, 
A Spirit, yet a Woman too ! 



3o6 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Her household motions Hght and free, 

And steps of virgin Hberty; 

A countenance in which did meet 

Sweet records, promises as sweet; 

A Creature not too bright or good 

For human nature's daily food; 

For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 

Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. 

And now I see with eye serene 
The very pulse of the machine ; 
A Being breathing thoughtful breath, 
A Traveller between life and death : 
The reason firm, the temperate will, 
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; 
A perfect Woman, nobly planned, 
To warn, to comfort, and command; 
And yet a Spirit still, and bright. 
With something of angelic light. 

William Wordsworth. 

Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. 

"Elegy Written in a Country Churchy ard " (Gray, 171 6- 71). I 
once drove from Windsor Castle through Eton, down the long hedge- 
bovind road which passes the estate of William Penn's descendants to 
Stoke Pogis, the little churchyard where this poem was written. They 
were trimming a great yew-tree under which Gray was said to have 
written this poem. The scene is one of peace and quiet. The " elegy" 
was a favourite^form of poem with the ancients, but Gray is said to have 
reached the climax among poets in this style of verse. The great line 
of the poem is; 

"The path of glory leads but to the grave." 
It would almost seem that poetry has for its greatest mission the 
lesson of a proper humihty. 

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 307 

The plowman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 

Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. 

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r 
The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such as, wand'ring near her secret bow'r, 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a mould 'ring 
heap, 

Each in his narrow cell forever laid. 

The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. 

The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed. 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening care: 

No children run to lisp their sire's return. 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield. 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; 

How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy 
stroke ! 



3o8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; 

Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, 
The short and simple annals of the Poor. 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r. 

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave. 

Await alike th' inevitable hour. 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

Forgive, ye Proud, th' involuntary fault 
If Memory to these no trophies raise. 

Where thro' the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 

Can storied urn or animated bust 

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, 

Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death ? 

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire. 

Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd 
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. 

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page 
Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; 

Chill Penury repress 'd their noble rage. 
And froze the genial current of the soul. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene. 

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: 

Full many a flower is bom to blush unseen. 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 



I 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 309 

Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast 
The httle tyrant of his fields withstood ; 

Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, 

Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. 

Th' applause of listening senates to command, 
The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 

To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, 

And read their history in a nation's eyes, 

Their lot forbad : nor circumscribed alone 

Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined 

Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne. 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, 

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 

Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride 
With incense, kindled at the Muse's flame. 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; 

Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 

They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. 

Yet e'en those bones from insult to protect 
Some frail memorial still erected nigh. 

With uncouth rhimes and shapeless sculpture 
deck'd. 
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd 
Muse, 
The place of fame and elegy supply : 



3IO Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And many a holy text around she strews 
That teach the rustic morahst to die. 

For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, 

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind ? 

On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 

E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, 
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, 
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; 

If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, 

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn 

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 

"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech 
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 

His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 

" Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; 

Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn. 

Or crazed with care, or cross 'd in hopeless love. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 311 

"One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, 
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; 

Another came; nor yet beside the rill, 
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. 

* ' The next with dirges due in sad array 

Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him 
borne. 

Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, 
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 

THE EPITAPH. 

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth. 

A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown: 
Fair Science frown 'd not on his humble birth, 

And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere. 
Heaven did a recompense as largely send : 

He gave to Mis'ry all he had, a tear: 

He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a 
friend. 

No farther seek his merits to disclose, 

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 

(There they alike in trembling hope repose,) 
The bosom of his Father and his God. 

Thomas Gray. 



312 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Rabbi Ben Ezra. 

"Rabbi Ben Ezra" (by Robert Browning, 1812-89). Youth is 
for dispute and age for counsel; each year, each period of a man's life 
is but the necessary step to the next. Youth is an uncertain thing 
to bank on. 

"Grow old along with me! 

The best is yet to be, 

The last of life for which the first was made." 
"Rabbi Ben Ezra" is a plea for each period in life. Aspiration is the 
keynote. 

" ... Trust God; see all, nor be afraid!" 

Grow old along with me ! 

The best is yet to be, 
The last of life, for which the first was made: 

Our times are in His hand 

Who saith, ''A whole I plann'd, 
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all nor be 
afraid!" 



Not that, amassing flowers, 
Youth sigh'd, "Which rose make ours, 
Which lily leave and then as best recall ? " 
Not that, admiring stars, 
• It yearn'd, "Nor Jove, nor Mars ; 
Mine be some figured flame which blends, tran- 
scends them all !" 

Not for such hopes and fears 

Annulling youth's brief years, 
Do I remonstrate : folly wide the mark ! 

Rather I prize the doubt 

Low kinds exist without, ■ 

Finish'd and finite clods, untroubled by a spark. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 313 

Poor vaunt of life indeed, 

Were man but formed to feed 
On joy, to solely seek and find and feast : 

Such feasting ended, then 

As sure an end to men ; 
Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the 
maw-cramm'd beast ? 

Rejoice we are allied 

To That which doth provide 
And not partake, effect and not receive ! 

A spark disturbs our clod ; 

Nearer we hold of God 
Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must 
believe. 

Then, welcome each rebuff 

That turns earth's smoothness rough, 
Each sting, that bids nor sit nor stand, but go ! 

Be our joys three parts pain ! 

Strive, and hold cheap the strain; 
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge 
the throe ! 

For thence, — a paradox 

Which comforts while it mocks, — 
Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail : 

What I aspired to be. 

And was not, comforts me: 
A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' 
the scale. 

What is he but a brute 
Whose flesh has soul to suit, 
Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play ? 



314 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

To man, propose this test — 
Thy body at its best, 
How far can that project thy soul on its lone way ? 

Yet gifts should prove their use : 

I own the Past profuse 
Of power each side, perfection every turn: 

Eyes, ears took in their dole, 

Brain treasured up the whole: 
Should not the heart beat once "How good to 
live and learn?" 

Not once beat ' ' Praise be Thine ! 

I see the whole design, 
I, who saw power, see now love perfect too : 

Perfect I call Thy plan : 

Thanks that I was a man ! 
Maker, remake, complete, — I trust what Thou 
Shalt do!" 



For pleasant is this flesh ; 

Our soul, in its rose-mesh 
Pull'd ever to the earth, still yearns for rest; 

Would we some prize might hold 

To match those manifold 
Possessions of the brute, — gain most, as we did 
best ! 

Let us not always say, 
"Spite of this flesh to-day 
I strove, made head, gain'd ground upon the 
whole!" 



i 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 315 

As the bird wings and sings, 
Let us cry, "All good things 
Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than 
flesh helps soul !" 

Therefore I summon age 

To grant youth's heritage. 
Life's struggle having so far reach'd its term: 

Thence shall I pass, approved 

A man, for aye removed 
From the develop'd brute; a god though in the 
germ. 

And I shall thereupon 

Take rest, ere I be gone 
Once more on my adventure brave and new: 

Fearless and unperplex'd, 

When I wage battle next. 
What weapons to select, what armour to indue. 

Youth ended, I shall try 

My gain or loss thereby ; 
Leave the fire ashes, what survives is gold: 

And I shall weigh the same, 

Give life its praise or blame : 
Young, all lay in dispute ; I shall know, being old. 

For note, when evening shuts, 

A certain moment cuts 
The deed off, calls the glory from the gray : 

A whisper from the west 

Shoots — ''Add this to the rest. 
Take it and try its worth: here dies another day." 



3i6 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

So, still within this life, 

Though lifted o'er its strife, 
Let me discern, compare, pronounce at last, 

"This rage was right i' the main. 

That acquiescence vain: 
The Future I may face now I have proved the 
Past." 

For more is not reserved 

To man, with soul just nerved 
To act to-morrow what he learns to-day : 

Here, work enough to watch 

The Master work, and catch 
Hints of the proper craft, tricks of the tool's true 
play. 

As it was better, youth 
Should strive, through acts uncouth, 
Toward making, than repose on aught found 
made: 

So, better, age, exempt 
From strife, should know, than tempt 
Further. Thou waitedest age : wait death nor be 
afraid ! 

Enough now, if the Right 

And Good and Infinite 
Be named here, as thou callest thy hand thine own. 

With knowledge absolute, 

Subject to no dispute 
From fools that crowded youth, nor let thee feel 
alone. 



;i;S( 



I 



h 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 317 

Be there, for once and all, 
Sever 'd great minds from small, 

Announced to each his station in the Past ! 
Was I, the world arraign'd, 
Were they, my soul disdain'd. 

Right ? Let age speak the truth and give us 
peace at last ! 

Now, who shall arbitrate ? 

Ten men love what I hate, 
Shun what I follow, slight what I receive; 

Ten, who in ears and eyes 

Match me : we all surmise. 
They this thing, and I that: whom shall my soul 
believe ? 

Not on the vulgar mass 

Call'd "work," must sentence pass, 
Things done, that took the eye and had the price; 

O'er which, from level stand, 

The low world laid its hand, 
Found straightway to its mind, could value in a 
trice : 

But all, the world's coarse thumb 

And finger fail'd to plumb, 
So pass'd in making up the main account; 

All instincts immature, 

All purposes unsure. 
That weigh'd not as his work, yet swell'd the 
man's amount: 

Thoughts hardly to be pack'd 
Into a narrow act, 
Fancies that broke through language and escaped ; 



3i8 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

All I could never be, 
All, men ignored in me, 
This, I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher 
shaped. 

Ay, note that Potter's wheel, 

That metaphor ! and feel 
Why time spins fast, why passive lies our clay, — 

Thou, to whom fools propound. 

When the wine makes its round, 
"Since life fleets, all is change; the Past gone, 
seize to-day !" 

Fool ! All that is, at all, 

Lasts ever, past recall; 
Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure: 

What enter'd into thee, 

That was, is, and shall be : 
Time's wheel runs back or stops: Potter and 
clay endure. 

He fix'd thee 'mid this dance 

Of plastic circumstance. 
This Present, thou, forsooth, wouldst fain arrest: 

Machinery just meant 

To give thy soul its bent. 
Try thee and turn thee forth, sufficiently im- 
press'd. 

What though the earlier grooves 
Which ran the laughing loves 
Around thy base, no longer pause and press ? 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 319 

What though, about thy rim, 
Scull-things in order grim 
Grow out, in graver mood, obey the sterner stress ? 

Look not thou down but up ! 

To uses of a cup. 
The festal board, lamp's flash and trumpet's peal, 

The new wine's foaming flow. 

The master's lips aglow ! 
Thou, heaven's consummate cup, what need'st 
thou with earth's wheel ? 

But I need, now as then. 
Thee, God, who mouldest men; 

And since, not even while the whirl was worst 
Did I, — to the wheel of life 
With shapes and colours rife. 

Bound dizzily, — mistake my end, to slake Thy 
thirst : 

So, take and use Thy work: 
Amend what flaws may lurk. 
What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the 
aim ! 

My times be in Thy hand ! 
Perfect the cup as plann'd ! 
Let age approve of youth, and death complete 
the same ! 

Robert Browning. 



320 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Prospice. 

"Prospice," by Robert Browning (1812-89), is the greatest death- 
song ever written. It is a battle-song and a paean of victory. 
"The journey is done, the siammit attained, 

And the strong man must go." 
" I would hate that Death bandaged my eyes and forbore, 
And bade me creep past." 

" No ! let me taste the whole of it." 
"The reward of all." 
This poem is included in this book because these lines are enough to 
reconcile any one to any fate. 

Fear death ? — to feel the fog in my throat, 

The mist in my face, 
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote 

I am nearing the place, 
The power of the night, the press of the storm. 

The post of the foe ; 
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, 

Yet the strong man must go : 
For the journey is done and the summit attained. 

And the barriers fall, 
Though a battle's to fight ere a guerdon be gained, 

The reward of it all. 
I was ever a fighter, so — one fight more. 

The best and the last ! 
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and 
forebore, 

And bade me creep past. 
No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers 

The heroes of old. 
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears 

Of pain, darkness, and cold. 
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, 

The black minute's at end. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 321 

And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave 

Shall dwindle, shall blend. 
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of 
pain, 

Then a light, then thy breast, 
O thou soul of my soul ! I shall clasp thee again, 
And with God be the rest ! 

Robert Browning. 



Recessional. 

"The Recessional" (by Rudyard Kipling, 1865-) is one of the most 
popular poems of this century. It is a warning to an age and a 
nation drunk with power, a rebuke to materialistic tendencies and 
boastfulness, a protest against pride. 

"Reverence is the master-key of knowledge." 

God of our fathers, known of old — 
Lord of our far-flung battle-line — 

Beneath whose awful Hand we hold 
Dominion over palm and pine — 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

The tumult and the shouting dies — 
The captains and the kings depart — 

Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, 
An humble and a contrite heart. 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

Far-called our navies melt away — 

On dune and headland sinks the fire — 

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! 



32 2 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, 
Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — 

Such boasting as the Gentiles use 
Or lesser breeds without the Law — 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 

For heathen heart that puts her trust 
In reeking tube and iron shard — 

All valiant dust that builds on dust, 

And guarding calls not Thee to guard — 

For frantic boast and foolish word. 

Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord ! Amen. 

RuDYARD Kipling. 



Ozymandias of Egypt. 

" Ozymandias of Egypt," by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), 
This sonnet is a rebuke to the insolent pride of kings and empires. It 
is extremely picturesque. It finds a place here because more elderly 
scholars of good judgment are pleased with it. I remember an old 
gray-haired scholar in Chicago who often recited it to his friends merely 
because it touched his fancy. 

I MET a traveller from an antique land 
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone 
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, 
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown 
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command 
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read 
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless 

things, 
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed; 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 323 

And on the pedestal these words appear: 
' My name is Ozymandias, king of kings : 
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair ! ' 
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay 
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, 
The lone and level sands stretch far away." 

Percy Bysshe Shelley, 



Mortality. 

"Mortality" (by William Knox, 1789-1825) is always quoted as 
Lincoln's favourite poem. 

O WHY should the spirit of mortal be proud? 
Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, 
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave. 
He passes from life to his rest in the grave. 

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, 

Be scattered around and together be laid; 

And the young and the old, and the low and the 

high. 
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie. 

The child that a mother attended and loved. 
The mother that infant's affection that proved. 
The husband that mother and infant that blessed, 
Each, all, are away to their dwelling of rest. 

The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in 

whose eye. 
Shone beauty and pleasure, — her triumphs are by; 
And the memory of those that beloved her and 

praised 
Are alike from the minds of the living erased 



324 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne, 
The brow of the priest that the miter hath worn, 
The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, 
Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave. 

The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap. 
The herdsman who climbed with his goats to the 

steep, 
The beggar that wandered in search of his bread. 
Have faded away like the grass that we tread. 

The saint that enjoyed the communion of heaven, 
The sinner that dared to remain unforgiven. 
The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just. 
Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. 

So the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed 
That wither away to let others succeed ; 
So the multitude comes, even those we behold. 
To repeat every tale that hath often been told. 

For we are the same that our fathers have been; 
We see the same sights that our fathers have seen, — 
We drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun, 
And we run the same course that our fathers have 
run. 

The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would 

think ; 
From the death we are shrinking from, they too 

would shrink; 
To the life we are clinging to, they too would cling; 
But it speeds from the earth like a bird on the wing. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 325 

They loved, but their story we cannot unfold; 
They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold; 
They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers 

may come; 
They enjoyed, but the voice of their gladness is 

dumb. 

They died, ay ! they died ! and we things that are 

now. 
Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow, 
Who make in their dwellings a transient abode. 
Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage 

road. 

Yea ! hope and despondence, and pleasure and 

pain. 
Are mingled together like sunshine and rain ; 
And the smile and the tear, and the song and the 

dirge, 
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge. 

'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, 
From the blossom of health to the paleness of 

death. 
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud, — 
O why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? 

William Knox. 



326 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



On First Looking Into Chapman's '* Homer." 

"On First Looking Into Chapman's ' Homer,' " by John Keats (i79S- 
1821). The last four lines of this sonnet form the most treraendous 
climax in literattire. The picture is as vivid as if done with a brush. 
Every great book, every great poem is a new world, an tindiscovered 
country. Every learned person is a whole territory, a universe of new 
thought. Every one who does anything with a heart for it, every 
specialist every one, however simple, who is strenuous and genuine. 
is a "new discovery." Let us give credit to the smallest planet that 
is true to its own orbit. 

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, 
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen ; 
Round many western islands have I been 
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. 

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told 
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne : 
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene 
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : 

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies 
When a new planet swims into his ken ; 
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes 

He stared at the Pacific — and all his men 
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — 
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

John Keats. 



Herve Riel. 

" Herve Riel" (by Robert Browning, 1812-89) is a poem for older 
boys. Here is a hero who does a great deed simply as a part of his 
day's work. He puts no value on what he has done, because he could 
have done no other way. 

On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred 
ninety-two, 
Did the English fight the French — woe to France ! 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 327 

And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through 

the blue. 
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of 
sharks pursue, 
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the 
Ranee, 

With the English fleet in view. 



'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor 
in full chase. 
First and foremost of the drove, in his great 
ship, Damfreville ; 

Close on him fled, great and small, 
Twenty-two good ships in all; 
And they signalled to the place, 
' * Help the winners of a race ! 
Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick — 
or, quicker still. 

Here's the English can and will ! " 

Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and 
leaped on board : ' 
"Why, what hope or chance have ships like 

these to pass?" laughed they; 
"Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the 
passage scarred and scored. 
Shall the Formidable here, with her twelve and 
eighty guns. 
Think to make the river-mouth by the single 
narrow way. 
Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of 
twenty tons, 



328 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And with flow at full beside ? 
Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide. 
Reach the mooring ! Rather say, 
While rock stands or water runs, 
Not a ship will leave the bay !" 

Then was called a council straight ; 
Brief and bitter the debate: 
"Here's the English at our heels; would you have 

them take in tow 
All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stem 
and bow, 

For a prize to Plymouth Sound ? — 
Better run the ships aground ! " 
(Ended Damfreville his speech.) 
"Not a minute more to wait ! 
Let the captains all and each 
Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on 
the beach ! 

France must undergo her fate. 

"Give the word !" — But no such word 
Was ever spoke or heard; 
For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid 

all these — 
A captain? A lieutenant? A mate — first, second, 
third? 

No such man of mark, and meet 
With his betters to compete ! 
But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville 

for the fleet — 
A poor coasting pilot he, Herve Riel, the Croisic- 
kese. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 329 

And "What mockery or malice have we here?" 
cries Herve Riel: 
"Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cow- 
ards, fools, or rogues ? 
Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the 

soundings, tell 
On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every 
swell, 
'Twixt the offing here and Greve where the river 
disembogues ? 
Are you bought by English gold ? Is it love the 
lying's for? 

Morn and eve, night and day, 
Have I piloted your bay. 
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of 
Solidor. 
Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were 
worse than fifty Hogues ! 
Sirs, they know I speak the truth ! Sirs, believe 
me there's a way ! 

Only let me lead the line. 

Have the biggest ship to steer, 
Get this Formidable clear, 
Make the others follow mine. 
And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I 
know well, 

Right to Solidor past Greve, 

And there lay them safe and sound ; 
And if one ship misbehave, 

— Keel so much as grate the ground, 
Why, I've nothing but my life, — here's my head !" 
cries Hervd Riel. 



330 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Not a minute more to wait 
"Steer us in, then, small and great ! 
Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron !" 
cried its chief. 

Captains, give the sailor place ! 

He is Admiral, in brief. 
Still the north wind, by God's grace ! 
See the noble fellow's face 
As the big ship, with a bound, 
Clears the entry like a hound. 
Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide 
sea's profound ! 

See, safe through shoal and rock, 
How they follow in a flock. 
Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates 
the ground. 

Not a spar that comes to grief ! 
The peril, see, is past. 
All are harboured to the last. 
And just as Herve Riel hollas "Anchor!" — sure 
as fate, 

Up the English come — too late ! 

So, the storm subsides to calm: 
They see the green trees wave 
On the heights o'erlooking Greve. 
Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. 
"Just our rapture to enhance, 

Let the English rake the bay, 
Gnash their teeth and glare askance 
As they cannonade away ! 
'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the 
Ranee !" 



Poems That Every Child Should Know t,^}'^ 

How hope succeeds despair on each Captain's 
countenance ! 

Out burst all with one accord, 
"This is Paradise for Hell ! 
Let France, let France's King 
Thank the man that did the thing ! " 

What a shout, and all one word, 
"Herve Riel!" 

As he stepped in front once more, 
Not a symptom of surprise 
In the frank blue Breton eyes, 

Just the same man as before. 

Then said Damfreville, "My friend, 
I must speak out at the end, 

Though I find the speaking hard. 
Praise is deeper than the lips : 
You have saved the King his ships. 

You must name your own reward. 
'Faith, our sun was near eclipse ! 
Demand whate'er you will, 
France remains your debtor still. 
Ask to heart's content and have ! or my name's not 
Damfreville." 

Then a beam of fun outbroke 
On the bearded mouth that spoke, 
As the honest heart laughed through 
Those frank eyes of Breton blue : 
* * Since I needs must say my say. 
Since on board the duty's done. 
And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it 
but a run ? — 



332 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Since 'tis ask and have, I may — 
Since the others go ashore — 
Come ! A good whole hoHday ! 
Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the 

Belle Aurore!" 
That he asked and that he got, — nothing more. 

Name and deed alike are lost : 
Not a pillar nor a post 
In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; 
Not a head in white and black 
On a single fishing smack, 
In memory of the man but for whom had gone to 
wrack 
All that France saved from the fight whence 
England bore the bell. 
Go to Paris : rank on rank 

Search the heroes flung pell-mell 
On the Louvre, face and flank ! 
You shall look long enough ere you come to 
Herve Riel. 

So, for better and for worse, 
Herve Riel, accept my verse ! 
In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once mote 
Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife 
the Belle Aurore ! 

Robert Browning. 



1 



Poems That Every Child Should Know ^2>?> 



The Problem. 

"The Problem" (by Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803-80) is quoted 
from one end of the world to the other. Emerson teaches one lesson 
above all others, that each soul must work out for itself its latent force, 
its own individual expression, and that with a "sad sincerity." "The 
bishop of the sotil" can do no more. 

I LIKE a church; I Hke a cowl; 
I love a prophet of the soul ; 
And on my heart monastic aisles 
Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles: 
Yet not for all his faith can see 
Would I that cowled churchman be. 
Why should the vest on him allure, 
Which I could not on me endure ? 

Not from a vain or shallow thought 

His awful Jove young Phidias brought; 

Never from lips of cunning fell 

The thrilling Delphic oracle ; 

Out from the heart of nature rolled 

The burdens of the Bible old; 

The litanies of nations came, 

Like the volcano's tongue of flame, 

Up from the burning core below, — 

The canticles of love and woe : 

The hand that rounded Peter's dome 

And groined the aisles of Christian Rome 

Wrought in a sad sincerity; 

Himself from God he could not free ; 

He builded better than he knew ; 

The conscious stone to beauty grew. 

Knowst thou what wove yon woodbird's nest 
Of leaves and feathers from her breast ? 



334 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

Or how the fish outbuilt her shell, 
Painting with morn each annual cell ? 
Or how the sacred pine-tree adds 
To her old leaves new myriads ? 
Such and so grew these holy piles, 
While love and terror laid the tiles. 
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon, 
As the best gem upon her zone. 
And Morning opes with haste her lids 
To gaze upon the Pyramids ; 
O'er England's abbeys bends the sky, 
As on its friends, with kindred eye; 
For out of Thought's interior sphere 
These wonders rose to upper air; 
And Nature gladly gave them place, 
Adopted them into her race, 
And granted them an equal date 
With Andes and with Ararat. 

These temples grew as grows the grass; 

Art might obey, but not surpass. 

The passive Master lent his hand 

To the vast soul that o'er him planned ; 

And the same power that reared the shrine 

Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. 

Ever the fiery Pentecost 

Girds with one flame the countless host, 

Trances the heart through chanting choirs, 

And through the priest the mind inspires. 

The word unto the prophet spoken 

Was writ on tables yet unbroken ; 

The word by seers or sibyls told, 

In groves of oak, or fanes of gold, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 335 

Still floats upon the morning wind, 
Still whispers to the willing mind. 
One accent of the Holy Ghost 
The heedless world hath never lost. 
I know what say the fathers wise, — 
The Book itself before me lies, 
Old Chrysostom, best Augustine, 
And he who blent both in his line. 
The younger Golden Lips or mines, 
Taylor, the Shakespeare of divines. 
His words are music in my ear, 
I see his cowled portrait dear; 
And yet, for all his faith could see, 
I would not the good bishop be. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



To America. 

"To America," included by permission of the Poet Laureate, is a 
good poem and a great poem. It is a keen thrust at the common 
practice of teaching American children to hate the English of these 
days on account of the actions of a silly old king dead a hvmdred 
years. Alfred Austin deserves great credit for this poem. 

What is the voice I hear 

On the winds of the western sea ? 

Sentinel, listen from out Cape Clear 
And say what the voice may be. 
'Tis a proud free people calling loud to a people 

proud and free. 

And it says to them: "Kinsmen, hail! 

We severed have been too long. 
Now let us have done with a worn-out tale— ^ 

The tale of an ancient wrong — •- 



336 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

And our friendship last long as our love doth and 
be stronger than death is strong." 

Answer them, sons of the self-same race, 
And blood of the self-same clan ; 

Let us speak with each other face to face 
And answer as man to man, 
And loyally love and trust each other as none but 

free men can. 



Now fling them out to the breeze, 

Shamrock, Thistle, and Rose, 
And the Star-spangled Banner unfurl with 
these — 
A message to friends and foes 
Wherever the sails of peace are seen and wherever 
the war- wind blows — 

A message to bond and thrall to wake. 
For wherever we come, we twain, 

The throne of the tyrant shall rock and quake, 
And his menace be void and vain ; 
For you are lords of a strong land and we are lords 

of the main. 

Yes, this is the voice of the bluff March gale; 

We severed have been too long. 
But now we have done with a worn-out tale — 
The tale of an ancient wrong — 
And our friendship last long as love doth last and 
stronger than death is strong. 

Alfred Austin. 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 337 



The English Flag. 

It is quite true that the English flag stands for freedom the world 
over. Wherever it floats almost any one is safe, whether English 
or not. 

[Above the portico the Union Jack remained 
fluttering in the flames for some time, but ulti- 
mately when it fell lihe crowds rent the air with 
shouts, and seemed to see significance in the in- 
cident. — Daily Papers.] 

Winds of the World, give answer? They are 

whimpering to and fro — 
And what should they know of England who only 

England know? — 
The poor little street-bred people that vapour and 

fume and brag. 
They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp 

at the Enghsh Flag ! 

Must we borrow a clout from the Boer — to plaster 

anew with dirt? 
An Irish liar's bandage, or an English coward's 

shirt ? 
We may not speak of England ; her Flag's to sell or 

share. 
What is the Flag of England? Winds of the 

World, declare ! 

The North Wind blew: — "From Bergen my steel- 
shod van-guards go; 

I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko 
floe; 



338 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

By the great North Lights above me I work the 

will of God, 
That the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger 

fills with cod. 

" I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors 

with flame, 
Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies 

came; 
I took the sun from their presence, I cut them 

down with my blast. 
And they died, but the Flag of England blew free 

ere the spirit passed. 

"The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long 

Arctic night, 
The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the 

Northern Light: 
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my 

bergs to dare. 
Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for 

it is there !" 

The South Wind sighed: — "From The Virgins my 

mid-sea course was ta'en 
Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main. 
Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the 

long-backed breakers croon 
Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked 

lagoon. 

"Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys, 
I waked the palms to laughter — I tossed the scud 
in the breeze — • 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 339 

Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone, 
But over the scud and the palm-trees an English 
flag was flown. 

"I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang 

for a wisp on the Horn ; 
I have chased it north to the Lizard — ribboned and 

rolled and torn; 
I have spread its fold o'er the dying, adrift in a 

hopeless sea; 
I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the 

slave set free. 

"My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling alba- 
tross, 

Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the 
Southern Cross. 

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my 
reefs to dare. 

Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it is 
there!" 

The East Wind roared: — "From the Kuriles, the 

Bitter Seas, I come, 
And me men call the Home- Wind, for I bring the 

English home. 
Look — look well to your shipping ! By the breath 

of my mad typhoon 
I swept your close-packed Praya and beached your 

best at Kowloon ! 

"The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas 
before, 

I raped your richest roadstead — I plundered Singa- 
pore ! 



340 Poems That Every Child Should Know 

I set my hand on the HoogH; as a hooded snake 

she rose, 
And I flung your stoutest steamers to roost with 

the startled crows. 

"Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake, 
But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for 

England's sake — 
Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or 

maid — 
Because on the bones of the English the English 

Flag is stayed. 

"The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild- 
ass knows. 

The scared white leopard winds it across the taint- 
less snows. 

What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my 
sun to dare. 

Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is 
there!" 

The West Wind called: — "In squadrons the 

thoughtless galleons fly 
That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred 

people die. 
They make my might their porter, they make my 

house their path, 
Till I loose my neck from their rudder and whelm 

them all in my wrath. 

"I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn 
from the hole; 

They bellow one to the other, the frightened ship- 
bells toll, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 341 

For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud 

with my breath, 
And they see strange bows above them and the 

two go locked to death. 

"But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether 

by dark or day, 
I heave them whole to the conger or rip their 

plates away, 
First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking 

sky. 
Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag 

goes by. 

"The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it — the frozen 

dews have kissed — 
The naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the 

mist. 
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my 

breath to dare, 
Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, 

for it is there!" 

RuDYARD Kipling. 



342 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



The Man With the Hoe. 

"The Man With the Hoe" is ptirely an American product, and every 
American ought to be proud of it, for we want no such type allowed 
to be developed in this country as the low-browed peasant of France. 
This poem is a stroke of genius. The story goes that it so offended 
a modem plutocrat that he offered a reward of $10,000 to any one 
who could write an equally good poem in rebuttal. "The Man With 
the Hoe" has won for Edwin Markham the title of "Poet Laureate 
of the Labouring Classes." 

WRITTEN AFTER SEEING THE PAINTING BY MILLET. 

God made man in His own image, in the image of God made He him. 
— Genesis. 

Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans 

Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, 

The emptiness of ages in his face, 

And on his back the burden of the world. 

Who made him dead to rapture and despair, 

A thing that grieves not and that never hopes. 

Stolid and stunned , a brother to the ox ? 

Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw ? 

Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow ? 

Whose breath blew out the light within this brain ? 

Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave 

To have dominion over sea and land ; 

To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; 

To feel the passion of Eternity ? 

Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the 

suns 
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep ? 
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf 
There is no shape more terrible than this — 
More tongued with censure of the world's blind 

greed — 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 343 

More filled with signs and portents for the soul — 
More fraught with menace to the universe. 

What gulfs between him and the seraphim ! 
Slave of the wheel of labour, what to him 
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades ? 
What the long reaches of the peaks of song, 
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose ? 
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look; 
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop ; 
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed, 
Plundered, profaned, and disinherited,- 
Cries protest to the Judges of the World, 
A protest that is also prophecy. 

O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, 

Is this the handiwork you give to God, 

This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched ? 

How will you ever straighten up this shape ; 

Touch it again with immortality ; 

Give back the upward looking and the light; 

Rebuild in it the music and the dream ; 

Make right the immemorial infamies. 

Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes ? 

O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, 
How will the future reckon with this Man ? 
How answer his brute question in that hour 
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world? 
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings — 
With those who shaped him to the thing he is — 
When this dumb Terror shall reply to God, 
After the silence of the centuries ? 

Edwin Markham. 



344 Poems That Every Child Should Know 



Song of Myself. 

"The Song of Myself" is one of Walt Whitman's (1819-92) most 
characteristic poems. I love the swing and the stride of his great 
long lines. I love his rough-shod way of trampling down and kick- 
ing out of the way the conventionalities that spring up like poisonous 
mushrooms to make the world a vast labyrinth of petty ' ' proprieties ' ' 
imtil everything is nasty. I love the oxygen he pours on the world. 
I love his genius for brotherliness, his picture of the Negro with 
rolling eyes and the firelock in the comer. These excerpts are some 
of his best lines. 

I CELEBRATE Hiyself, and sing myself, 
And what I assume you shall assume, 
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs 

to you. 
I loafe and invite my soul, 
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of 

summer grass. 
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from 

this soil, this air. 
Bom here of parents bom here from parents the 

same, and their parents the same, 
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health 

begin. 
Hoping to cease not till death. 

I hail or for good or bad, I permit to speak at 

every hazard, 
Nature without check with original energy. 

Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much ? have 

you reckon'd the earth much ? 
Have you practised so long to learn to read ? 
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of 

poems ? * 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 345 

Stop this day and night with me and you shall 

possess the origin of all poems, 
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun 

(there are millions of suns left), 
You shall no longer take things at second or third 

hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, 

nor feed on the specters in books, 
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor 

take things from me. 
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from 

yourself. 

A child said, ''What is the grass f " fetching it to 

me with full hands ; 
How could I answer the child? I do not know 

what it is any more than he. 
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out 

of hopeful green stuff woven. 
Or, I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, 
A scented gift and remembrance designedly dropt. 
Bearing the owner's name some way in the 

corners, that we may see and remark, and say, 

''Whose?'' 

Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt, 
Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee, 
In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass 

the night. 
Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill 'd game, 
Falling asleep on the gathered leaves with my 

dog and gun by my side. 
The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts 

the sparkle and scud, 



34^ Poems That Every Child Should Know 

My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or 

shout joyously from the deck. 
The boatman and clam-diggers arose early and 

stopt for me, 
I tucked my trouser-ends in my boots and went 

and had a good time ; 
You should have been with us that day round the 

chowder-kettle. 

The runaway slave came to my house and stopt 

outside, 
I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the 

woodpile, 
'Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw 

him limpsy and weak, 
And went where he sat on a log and led him in and 

assured him, 
And brought water and fill'd a tub for his sweated 

body and bruis'd feet, 
And gave him a room that entered from my own, 

and gave him some coarse clean clothes, 
And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes 

and his awkwardness. 
And remember putting plasters on the galls of his 

neck and ankles; 
He staid with me a week before he was recuperated 

and passed north, 
I had him sit next me at table, my firelock lean'd 

in the corner. 

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, 
And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a 
man, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 347 

And I say there is nothing greater than the mother 
of men. 

I understand the large hearts of heroes, 

The courage of present times and all times, 

How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless 

wreck of the steamship, and Death chasing 

it up and down the storm, 
How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch 

and was faithful of days and faithful of nights, 
And chalked in large letters on a board, ''Be of 

good cheer, we will not desert you'' ; 
How he follow'd with them and tack'd with them 

three days and would not give it up, 
How he saved the drifting company at last, 
How the lank loose-gown 'd women looked when 

boated from the side of their prepared graves, 
How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted 

sick, and the sharp-lipp'd unshaved men; 
All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, 

it becomes mine, 
I am the man, I suffered, I was there. 
The disdain and calmness of martyrs. 
The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burned 

with dry wood, her children gazing on. 
The pounded slave that flags in the race, leans by 

the fence blowing, covered with sweat. 
I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the 

dogs, 
Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again 

crack the marksmen, 
I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, 

thinn'd with the ooze of my skin, 



34^ Poems That Every Child Should Know 

I fall on the weeds and stones, 
The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close. 
Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over 
the head with whip-stocks. 

Old age superbly rising ! O welcome, ineffable 
grace of dying days ! 

See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of 

that, 
Count ever so much, there is limitless time around 

that. 
My rendezvous is appointed, it is certain. 
The Lord will be there and wait till I come on 

perfect terms. 
The great Camerado, the lover true for whom I 

pine will be there. 

And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy 
walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud. 

And to glance with an eye or show a bean in its 

pod confounds the learning of all times. 
And there is no trade or employment but the 

young man following it may become a hero. 
And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub 

for the wheel' d universe. 
And I say to any man or woman, "Let your soul 

stand cool and composed before a million 

universes." 

I see something of God each hour of the twenty- 
four, and each moment then, 



Poems That Every Child Should Know 349 

In the faces of men and women I see God, and in 

my own face in the glass, 
I find letters from God dropt in the street, and 

every one is sign'd by God's name, 
And I leave them where they are, for I know that 

wheresoe'er I go. 
Others will punctually come forever and ever. 

Listener up there ! What have you to confide 

in me? 
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening. 
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay 

only a minute longer.) 
Who has done his day's work ? Who will soonest 

be through with his supper ? 
Who wishes to walk with me ? 

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untrans- 
latable, 

I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the 
world. 



INDEX 



A BARKING SOUND THE 

shepherd hears, 120 
Abide with me ! fast falls 

the eventide, 223 
Abou Ben Adhem (may 

his tribe increase), 89 
A chieftain to the High- 
lands bound, 105 
Across the lonely beach, 71 
A life on the ocean wave, 85 
Alone I walked the ocean 

strand, 256 
A nightingale that all day 

long, 34 
A supercilious nabob of the 

East, 165 
At Flores in the Azores Sir 

Richard Grenville lay, 

246 
At midnight in his guarded 

tent, 128 
A traveller on the dusty 

road, 48 
A well there is in the west 

country, 180 
Ay, tear her tattered en- 
sign down, 53 

Behind him lay the gray 

Azores, 169 
Beneath the low-himg night 

cloud, 67 
Bird of the wilderness, 302 
Blow, blow, thou winter 

wind, 58 
Bowed by the weight of 

centuries he leans, 342 
Bright shone the lists, blue 

bent the skies, no 
Buttercups and daisies, 51 



By the shores of Gitche 
Gumee, 79 

Come, let us plant the 

apple-tree, 211 
Come, dear children, let us 

away, 260 
"Courage!" he said, and 

pointed toward the land, 

231 
Cupid and my Campasbe 

played, 235 
Cupid once upon a bed, 234 

Down in a green and 
shady bed, 27 

Farewell, farewell ! but 

this I tell, 5 
Fear death? — to feel the 

fog in my throat, 320 

"Give us a song!" the 

soldiers cried, 64 
God of our fathers, known 

of old, 321 
Goe, soule, the bodie's 

guest, 283 
Grow old along with me, 

312 

Hail to thee, blithe 

spirit, 268 
Half a league, half a league, 

107 
Happy the man whose wish 

and care, 273 
Hats off ! 133 
Heaven is not reached at a 

single bound, 117 



351 



352 



Index 



How dear to this heart are 
the scenes of my child- 
hood, 288 

' ' How I should like a birth- 
day !" said the child, 164 

How happy is he bom and 
taught, 220 

How sleep the brave, who 
sink to rest, 133 

I AM MONARCH OF ALL I 

survey, 190 
I celebrate myself, and sing 

myself, 344 
I chatter, chatter, as I flow, 

153 
I come, I come ! ye have 

called me long, 259 
If I had but two little wings, 

21 
I have a little shadow that 

goes in and out with me, 

9 

I heard last night a little 

child go singing, 222 
I like a church: I like a 

cowl, 333 
"I'll tell you how the leaves 

came down," 12 
I met a traveller from an 

antique land, 322 
In her ear he whispers 

gaily, 75 
In the name of the Empress 

of India, make way, 125 
I remember, I remember, 

159 
I shot an arrow into the air, 

3 
"Isn't this Joseph's son?" 

— ay, it is He, 114 
I sprang to the stirrup, and 

Joris, and he, 173 
Is there, for honest poverty, 

151 
It is not growing like a tree, 

60 
It was a summer's evening, 

117 



It was our warship Clamp- 

herdown, 154 
It was the schooner Hes- J 

per us, 138 
It was the time when lilies 

blow, 72 
I wandered lonely as a 

cloud, 82 

John Anderson, my jo, 
John, 274 

King Francis was a 
hearty king and loved a 
royal sport, 184 

Krinken was a little child, 
162 

Lars Porsena of Clusium, 

^ 173 

Lead kindly light, amid th' 

encircling gloom, 224 
Let dogs delight to bark 

and bite, 4 
Life ! I know not what 

thou art, 299 
Little drops of water, 5 
Little orphant Annie's come 

to our house to stay, 54 
Little white lily, 10 



"Make way for liberty !" 

he cried, 296 
Maxwelton braes are bon- 

nie, 226 
Merrily swinging on brier 

and weed, 44 
Methought I heard a but- 
terfly, 42 
'Mid pleasures and palaces 

though we may roam, 220 
Mine be a cot beside the 

hill, 272 
My country 'tis of thee, 228 
My fairest child, I have no 

song to give you, 2 1 
My good blade carves the 

casques of men, 253 



index 



353 



My heart leaps up when I 

behold, 28 
My little Madchen found 

one day, 149 
My mind to me a kingdom 

is, 286 
My soul is sailing through 

the sea, 219 
Much have I travell'd in 

the realms of gold, 326 

Nae shoon to hide her 

tiny taes,'4 
No stir in the air, no stir in 

the sea, 145 
Not a drum was heard, not 

a funeral note, 176 
Now glory to the Lord of 

Hosts, from whom all 

glories are, 179 

O, A DAINTY PLANT IS THE 

ivy green, 59 

O Captain ! my Captain, our 
fearful trip is done, 57 

Of all the woodland crea- 
tures, 60 

Oft in the stilly night, 266 

Oh where ! and oh where ! 
is your Highland laddie 
gone, 20 

Oh, young Lochinvar is 
come out of the West, 103 

Old Grimes is dead; that 
good old man, 47 

"O Mary, go and call the 
cattle home, 271 

O, may I join the choir in- 
visible, 303 

Once a dream did wave a 
shade, 116 

Once there was a little boy, 

19 
Once upon a midnight 

dreary, while I pondered 

weak and weary, 289 
On Linden, when the sun 

was low, 134 
On the sea and at the 



Hogue, sixteen hundred 
ninety- two, 326 

Out of the clover and blue- 
eyed grass, 160 

Over the hill the farm-boy 
goes, 90 

O ! say can you see, by the 
dawn's early light, 31 

O why should the spirit of 
mortal be proud, 323 

Pussy can sit by the fire 

and sing, 8 
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, 126 

Said the wind to the 
moon, "I will blow you 

out," III 

Sail on, sail on, O Ship of 
State, 227 

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace 
bled, 142 

See thou character. Give 
thy thoughts no tongue, 
301 

Serene I fold my hands and 
wait, 267 

Sez Corporal Madden to 
Private McFadden, 86 

Shed no tear! O shed no 
tear, 50 

She dwelt among the un- 
trodden ways, 272 

She was a phantom of de- 
light, 305 

Speak! speak! thou fear- 
ful guest, 240 

Stand ! the ground's your 
own, my braves ! 63 

Sunset and evening star, 
124 

Sweet and low, sweet and 
low, 27 

Tell me not in mournful 

numbers, 218 
The Assyrian came down 

like a wolf on the fold, 

158 



354 



Index 



The boy stood on the burn- 
ing deck, 2 2 

The breaking waves dashed 
high, 229 

The curfew tolls the knell 
of parting day, 306 

The Frost looked forth, one 
still, clear night, 39 

The gingham dog and the 
calico cat, 18 

The God of Music dwelleth 
out of doors, 275 

The harp that once through 
Tara's halls, 287 

The nautilus and the am- 
monite, 188 

The old mayor climb 'd the 
belfry tower, 277- 

The Owl and the Pussy 
Cat went to sea, 1 5 

The quality of mercy is not 
strained, 300 

There came a youth upon 
the earth, 171 

There came to port last 
Sunday night, 152 

There lay upon the ocean's 
shore, 148 

There was a sound of rev- 
elry by night, 177 

There was never a Queen 
like Balkis, 7 

There were three kings into 
the East, 83 

There were three sailors of 
Bristol City, 41 

The splendour falls on cas- 
tle walls, 66 

The stately homes of Eng- 
land, 192 

The summer and autumn 
had been so wet, 166 

The sun shines bright in the 
old Kentucky home, 136 

The world is too much with 
us; late and soon, 304 

The year's at the spring, 6 

Thirty days hath Septem- 
ber, 7 



This is the ship of pearl, 
which, poets feign, 122 

This was the noblest Roman 
of them all, 301 

'Tis the last rose of sum- 
mer, 225 

T'other day as I was twin- 
ing, 234 

Traveller, pluck a stem of 
moly, 233 

Triumphal arch that fills 
the sky, 53 

'Twas the night before 
Christmas, when all 
through the house, 29 

Twinkle, twinkle little star, 
6 



Under a spreading chest- 

nut tree, 25 
Up from the meadows rich 

with corn, 96 
Up from the South at 

break of day, 68 

Way down upon de Swa- 

nee ribber, 137 
Wee, modest, crimson- tip- 
ped flower, 94 
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'- 

rous beastie, 92 
Wee Willie Winkie rins 

through the town, 13 
We were crowded in the 

cabin, 23 
V/hatever brawls disturb 

the street, 20 
What is so rare as a day in 

June, 217 
What is the voice I hear, 



335 
What 



the 



was he doing, 
great god Pan, 275 

When cats run home and 
light is come, 40 

When earth's last picture 
is painted, 285 

When George the Third 



Index 355 

was reigning, a htmdred Woodman spare that tree, 

years ago, 236 222 

When I consider how my Wynken, Blynken and Nod 

hght is spent, 304 one night, 16 
When Letty had scarce 

pass'd her third glad 

year, 115 Ye banks and braes of 

Where the pools are bright bonnie Doon, 265 

and deep, 50 "You are old. Father Wil- 

Wild was the night, yet a liam," the young man 

wilder night, 131 said, 33 

Winds of the world, give You know, we French 

answer, 337 storm'd Ratisbon, 43 



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